


Blessed

by Oldine



Series: Rejuvination [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-07 05:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldine/pseuds/Oldine
Summary: (Revised) After reading an article that Ms. Myles is too busy for a new television series, I thought about Torchwood without Gwen. It's another 2019 starting. This version has Jack returning suddenly from 2047 and finding  a very different Torchwood Three. It requires Jack to look at who he was and the person he became. It's a drama ideally akin to a new series. Jack and Ianto's relationship is restarting and it's not rainbows and happy bunnies. The ongoing series involves temporal distortions, unethical experimentation and more. It's based in my AU, but it's different.





	1. Blessed

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of season 1, Owen opened the Rift. It caused time distortions and serious global problems before it closed. Between seasons 1 and 2 are there were a couple Doctor Who episodes with Jack. A paradox device was created and the effect later destroyed. In the first episode of season 2, John’s manipulations lead to a bomb being detonated in a time portal and time briefly reset. During season 3, the hub is blown up damaging or destroying an unknown amount of alien technology. During season 4, a massive alien entity in the center of the Earth is affected by Jack’s blood with global consequences.

_2047\. Decades after a bomb destroyed access to the Blessing from Argentina, a large drill pierced the chamber. A light faintly illuminated the rubble as the drill retreated. After it reached the surface, a few minutes of silent, still darkness followed. Nothing to indicate what was about to happen._

_A pod was lowered down the hole, scraping against the sides with a rock on metal sound. Dislodged stones clattered downward, dislodging the already unstable rubble. The pod hit bottom with a thud, sending debris sliding toward the edge of the platform into the Blessing’s maw._

_The door slid open and a terrified, bleeding alien stumbled out. Disoriented on unstable ground, it lost it’s footing, stumbled and fell. The incline and rubble sent it sliding toward the edge. It screamed as it tumbled over._

_On contact with alien blood, the Blessing reacted. Without an equal offering in Shanghai, a centralized effect rather than a morphic field resulted. The interdimensional nature of the alien, combined with a natural adaption to chronons, caused a retrograde explosion._

_The effect collided with the Rift opening in 2006 and rebounded forward through the distortion, diffusing like light through a prism, affecting the Time/Space Continuum. It blended with residual paradoxical energy from the insane Time Lord’s manipulations. Then collided with another temporal disruption._

 

**Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales**

**Friday, February 1, 2019**

Jack Harkness woke disoriented as someone nudged his foot. Dizzy and nauseous, he opened his eyes. He recognized the hub, and his bedroll in the back of his office, even as the memories of it’s destruction swirled. It looked and felt the same. While a dream made the most sense, he doubted it. There were too many differences. Most were subtle. Two coats hung on the rack in the corner. He didn’t recognize the second one, but it reminded him of Ianto.

“Why did you sleep in the office?” Ianto’s question sounded more like an accusation.

“I’m dreaming,” Jack muttered.

“We had dinner plans,” Ianto reminded, annoyed. “You wanted to apologize again. And remind me it’s my fault I want a relationship and can’t compete with Gwen’s memory.”

Jack reached for his wrist-strap and flipped it open. Programming it took longer with unsteady hands. He didn’t know how or why, but his scan results showed a higher concentration of chronons. He experienced some type of time travel.

“Have the Rift alarms gone off?” Jack struggled to push himself up.

“We shut them off three days ago.” Ianto sounded uncertain. “Something disrupted the Rift. It’s causing sporadic spikes of exotic energy.”

“What year is it?” Jack held out his hand for help.

Ianto stepped forward and tugged Jack to his feet. “2019.”

Jack shook his head. “Not possible.” The hub was destroyed years earlier.

“You’re going to the infirmary.” Ianto wrapped an arm around Jack’s back to hold him up. “Geraint will run scans.”

Jack didn’t recognize the name. “Is Gwen here?”

Ianto sighed, maneuvering Jack across the office. “She died three years ago. Don’t mention her to Geraint. His wife disappeared in the same situation. Presumed dead.”

Gwen didn’t die in 2016, Jack thought as they exited the office through the sliding door. “Who else is here?”

“Kylia.”

They struggled down the steps to the main floor near the entrance. It looked different. The work stations were gone. Jack looked at the second floor platform and noticed it circled the room with multiple offices.

“What do you remember last?” Ianto half-carried Jack toward the entrance to the back hallway.

“Drinking myself blind on cheap whiskey.” Sioned’s death had been too much. Jack retreated to the Institute’s crypt and sat against a support beam facing her vault.

“I didn’t think you drank,” Ianto commented, confused.

“It was 2047. Things changed.” The back hallway looked different. “The layout’s different.”

“After Owen opened the Rift, it changed. We haven’t had a new hallway or section in years.”

Jack had no idea what that meant. He tried to remember what events followed that. He reconnected with The Doctor and found out his immortality was a result of being a fixed point in time and space. While the Blessing somehow affected it, it was doubtful anything else could.

“Are Owen and Tosh alive?”

“Yeah. They’re in London. Together,” Ianto said wistfully.

If the time change was real, Jack had no idea how. From what he remembered, the 456 killed Ianto. No matter how many years passed, Jack clearly remembered that horror. Losing friends and lovers happened frequently when one lived for centuries. Being responsible made it harder to cope.

“I hurt you.”

Ianto tensed. “Yep.”

“I never meant to.” After returning from the nightmare of being held prisoner for a year by The Master, Jack reached for the two people he cared for. Only one accepted. Seeing a Time Lord almost destroy the planet affected him in ways he could never explain.

“You never do.”

They continued on in silence. The door slid open presumably to the infirmary. It looked like a specialty ward at the new Institute. Eight medical cots with individual scanners and computer panels between them.

“What happened?” An unfamiliar man with a Welsh accent asked.

“Time travel,” Ianto said, “Or his mind is scrambled.”

“His excuses for missing dates are getting better.” The man took Jack’s other side and they walked Jack over to a cot across from a desk.

Ianto swung Jack’s legs onto the cot. “Geraint specializes in biomechanics. He’s a doctor and an engineer.”

“I should be offended.” Geraint returned with a hand-held scanner. He programmed it. “We’ve gotten into trouble together for years.”

A creak of gears needing oil distracted Geraint briefly. He looked at Ianto as he rubbed his twitching left hand. “You’re stressing it out.” The sound increased.

Ianto motioned at Jack. “I’m stressed.”

He knew he was missing something. “What’s wrong with me?”

Geraint smiled. “I’m not qualified to answer psychological questions.” He reviewed the scan results. “Your neurological results are different. You have had extended contact with atmospheric pollutants and other contaminates not found anywhere I know of on Earth.”

“2047 is a war zone.”

Geraint nodded. “Your energy readings and quantum signature are different from four days ago.” He looked at Ianto. “I’m uploading the scans. They need to be compared to Rift fluctuations.”

Ianto removes an ear com from his pocket with his right hand and stared at it. “I better walk over to Kylia’s lab.”

Geraint waited until Ianto left the infirmary. Then turned back to Jack. “There have been indications of a major temporal disruption for twelve or thirteen years. I don’t know the details. That’s before my time here. But something happened to the Rift.”

Owen opened it, Jack thought. Except the consequences were contained when they closed it. And the demon-creature was destroyed by his immortal life energy.

“What is my relationship with Ianto?”

Geraint closed his eyes and lowered his head. “You don’t remember?”

The pain of losing Ianto and Sioned blurred. Jack blamed himself for her death too but for very different reasons. If he had insisted they get married like they discussed, Sioned wouldn’t have been in the situation that killed her. Then it dawned on him; she wasn’t dead. In 2019, she was a kid. One more bizarre detail to process.

Jack propped himself up. If the situation was real, and it looked that way, he needed to fix it. Finding the current version of Sioned would help with the guilt. She had a chance at a different life. Ianto was more complicated. The guilt was a private burden Jack shouldered a long time. Not just how Ianto died. Jack knew Ianto wasn’t into casual relationships.

“I remember holding Ianto in my arms as he died.”

 

Ianto Jones rubbed his left hand as the gears continued to grind. The alien prosthetic was an ongoing reminder that Torchwood was one insanity after another. They still didn’t know where it came from or even if it was intended to be a prosthesis. Some of it’s varied quirks suggested an AI.

The door to Kylia’s lab slid open and he stepped inside. She had several computers and monitors arranged so she could view them at the same time. It made running simultaneous searches easier.

“What’s his excuse this time?” She asked.

Ianto smiled. No matter what, she cared. “He just returned from 2047.”

“That’s new.” Kylia walked over and gave him a hug.

“Did you get scan data from Geraint?”

“Yeah. I’m running computer comparisons. Tosh will have to look at it, but Jack wouldn’t want me to send it.”

“Check for a temporal anomaly. Start with the last hour.”

The humor faded. “You weren’t kidding about 2047.”

“No.” There was no reason for Jack to lie. While the excuses were a running joke, Ianto knew the cause wasn’t funny. Any time circumstances forced them to reevaluate, usually sex, Jack took him to a restaurant to talk about it. They argued and tried to compromise. It never worked.

“What do you think I’ll find?”

Ianto had no idea.

 

Jack Harkness stood in the doorway to his room hours later. None of it looked familiar. He could only guess Ianto decorated it. The changes generated a growing list of questions. But the one that stayed with Jack was what kind of man created the environment he found. It looked like he’d taken advantage of Ianto for years.

Fix it, Sioned’s voice echoed through Jack’s thoughts. It was what she’d tell him if she was there.

“Problem?” Ianto asked.

“No.” Jack stepped through the door. “Still adjusting.”

Ianto followed slowly and stopped just inside. “You have clean suits in the wardrobe. The hampers are marked.” Pause. “I posted labels everywhere.”

Jack turned. “You don’t have to do my laundry.”

“I don’t mind.”

You should, Jack thought. “We have a lot to discuss. I…” Have no idea where to start. “My partner of seven years died. I need to process that.” And losing nearly thirty years.

Ianto nodded.

Jack reached for Ianto’s hand. It jerked away, seemingly on it’s own.

“It’s mad.” Ianto only then realized he needed to explain. “My arm.” He motioned at the upper part pf his arm near his shoulder with his right hand. “Is metamorphic alien technology. It responds to my moods. And has an attitude.”

That explained Geraint’s comments earlier. “How long have you had it?” Jack didn’t know where else to start.

“Six years. I lost my arm in an explosion.” Ianto looked like he wasn’t sure how to explain. “It attached itself while I was in London recovering.” Pause. “Owen arranged for a consult with Geraint. That’s how we met.”

“It can’t be removed.”

“No.” Ianto looked down at his hand while flexing his fingers. “We get along most of the time.”

“Will it accept a hug?” Jack held out his arms.

Ianto moved closer. They embraced. The awkwardness was another reminder to Jack he had a lot to atone for.


	2. Chapter 2

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

** Sunday, February 3, 2019 **

Jack Harkness stood outside the fake tourist office leaning on the icy railing overlooking the water. A part of him hoped it was a nightmare. That he would wake up in the flat he shared with Sioned and she would be there alive and well. Romanticizing a war zone was the grief. 

“Remember the good times,” Sioned said more than once. “And find someone who makes you happy. I want you to live when I’m gone.”

Easier said than done, Jack thought. 

The door opened behind him and light footsteps followed. He turned and watched Kylia, a twenty-something woman with a mocha complexion and light green eyes, walked toward him. She looked familiar. And seemed to avoid him. After two days, she suspected it had to do with Ianto, but had no idea why.

“Morning.”

“Is there something inspiring about freezing your arse?” Kyla asked not expecting an answer. “We have a monk. Are you up for it? Ianto’s dealing with London and Geraint’s at the morgue.”

Jack turned. “Monk?”

Kylia nodded, acknowledging he had no idea what she was talking about. “Rasputin is the most common name for a street drug made from a Russian plant found originally in Siberia. Typically, it has a lot in common with marijuana. Except users can see exotic energy. We often find them standing around eating junk food and staring at the Rift.” Pause. “It’s semi-legal because New Age groups throughout Europe use it to commune with the universe as part of their religious practices. It supposedly grants psychic powers. Lots of lawsuits. The few people who have bad reactions go postal. Or monk.”

No matter how much Jack wanted another bottle of whiskey, he couldn’t neglect his duties. Torchwood agents died. Time changed. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. Life went on. Or rather new crises developed. 

“Lead the way.” He motioned toward the door. “What’s the situation?”

Kylia led back inside. The hallway from the tourist office led to the garage. She waited until they were part way there before continuing.

“He monked at a history museum an hour-and-a-half into a free day. It’s filled with families and seniors with retirement center groups.”

Not good. “Is he contained?”

“Partly. He’s in an exhibit room secured by fire doors. But forcing the doors affected the entire system. There are a hundred people or more trapped in the building. Including young children and fragile seniors.”

They had several tech options to get through the doors, depending on different possibilities, Jack concluded. “Are armed police en route?”

“Already there.” Kylia gave it a moment. “One reason the Rasputin name sticks is that monks are hard to kill. We have to stun then, toss them in a containment unit, and leave them for Geraint to detox. If he can’t, and most are resistant, they’re transferred to London. Owen has a dozen in cryostasis.” Her tone saddened. “Most fry their units unconsciously trying to escape. It’s fatal.”

“Fry them how?”

She held up her hands. “Tosh hasn’t figured it out.”

 

Ianto Jones stood gripping his hands too tightly in front of him. The conference room monitor allowed for video conferences. Talking to Institute management was always stressful and better if they didn’t see his arm misbehaving. It led to questions he didn’t want to answer.

“Why weren’t we notified of another hybrid?” Delissa Wright demanded.

“We receive at least one erroneous report a week. Geraint went to the morgue to make a determination.”

Wright looked unconvinced. “He refuses all requests for information and encrypts his files.”

Ianto doubted she realized she admitted to trying to steal their files. They had so many problems with data interception attempts in the field, their technology had been modified for encryptions based on Welsh and Czech. The first time London got one of their Welsh files, they demanded Owen identify the language. The most complex law enforcement agency on the planet couldn’t figure out the Cardiff Torchwood office used Welsh. Then they asked why.

“Geraint is still waiting for the complete investigation file on his wife’s disappearance.”

She glared. “The rest is classified.”

“Based on the information provided to Jack, there is no reason to classify it.” The primary reason Jack didn’t believe the official reports. The Institute expected him to accept their explanation for Gwen’s death and Jolana’s disappearance and barred access to the quarantined excavation. They reluctantly allowed him to view Gwen’s body. He refused to leave until they allowed access. 

“Withholding information pertaining to active investigations is unacceptable.”

“Jack determines what information is necessary to send using the same criteria London used for Ms. Cooper and Dr. Jolana Hughes.”

“Where is Captain Harkness?”

“Dealing with a monk.” That was another problem. Owen and Tosh had months of research. According to London they had no theories on the origin of Rasputin, beyond the plant, or what caused monks. Except the Institute would have replaced them after days or weeks if that were true. Having worked with both of them, Ianto knew they had theories. London wasn’t sharing.

 

** Amgueddfa Hanes Cymru **

Jack Harkness stood back in the security control room watching Kylia quickly modify technology to force control of the fire doors. She had significant experience with advanced technology. On the drive over she claimed to have no specialty skills. He knew she wasn’t telling him something.

“The good news is the monk can’t get to the civilians or emergency responders.” Kylia motioned at a blank screen. “Bad news is we’re blind. He monked the security system.”

If Jack understood, he somehow short circuited the fire doors. “Is that unusual?”

“Yes and no. It suggests he developed the psychic defenses while conscious.” She turned and looked at him. “He’s all yours.” She smiled. “The last one that did this could fly using a type of energy based levitation.”

That explained why she asked for his help. He couldn’t be permanently injured or killed. “Do we have a net?”

Kylia chuckled as she moved for an equipment case she insisted on carrying herself. “Geraint built one strong enough to bring down a jetpack.”

Jack suspected there was a story behind that. “But?”

“If he’s got any of his mind left, he’ll throw it back at you.”

Ten minutes later, Jack found himself outside the last barrier between him and the offender. He remotely modified a hack to operate the disabled door. He wanted to see the situation before deciding how to handle it. After several tries, the lock released and he pushed it open.

Energy shimmered through the room like a mirage. A man perched on top of a display with a radiating rose-colored aura. His eyes were wild, but aware. He reminded Jack of pictures of self-proclaimed spiritual leaders and didn’t fit with the information. 

Jack used his wrist-strap to scan. The man somehow infused the room with Rift energy. 

He stepped back, allowing the door to close. Then tapped his ear com. “Kylia.”

“Problem?” 

Jack explained what he saw.

She groaned. “I’ve read stories online. Religious claims of stable monks.” From her tone, she hadn’t taken them seriously.

Jack reviewed the scan readings again. “Ask security for CCTV footage. There is no damage in the room. What concerned them?”

While he waited, he wondered what caused the man to develop an ability to manipulate Rift energy. It wasn’t a random plant. Either the drug was contaminated or the effect triggered something unrelated. Being able to view the Rift sounded like a genetic adaption somehow to continual exposure. He needed to know if anyone who wasn’t born or raised in the area had had the experience.

“He was levitating,” Kylia said over the ear com.

“Did he attempt to harm anyone?”

“No. And he had the opportunity.”

Jack opened the door and scanned again. Details varied some. The readings were consistent with chaotic energy. The man hadn’t moved from his perch. 

“Good morning.” The man tilted his head like a dog listening to a distant sound. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood.” He waited a moment. “You’re scaring people.” Confusion passed over the man’s face. “The museum had to be evacuated.” The man slid off the display case and stood in mid air. Then he slowly lowered to the floor. “Can you release the energy?”

His aura extended briefly as he walked; then condensed to barely visible. The mirage disappeared. And the man blinked out. A reddish afterimage lingered and faded.

“The monk disappeared.”

“How?”

Jack consulted his wrist-strap. The energy was completely gone with no indication it ever existed. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t a drug. He scanned again checking for chronons specifically and found nothing. He needed equipment he wasn’t confident the hub had.

 

** Torchwood Three **

Ianto Jones sat at Jack’s desk writing notes. He needed to speak with the Institute when he got back. That required knowing what was going on. It wouldn’t take much to sell emotional and stressed. The problem was perception differences. Jack was less self-absorbed. A few people in Institute management had known Jack since before the Institute was rebuilt. They would notice a major change.

The main door opened minutes before Geraint entered the office. The doctor looked agitated suggesting another false report. 

“What happened?”

Geraint groaned, “Someone changed the criteria again. Third time this year.”

There had been too many to be a random glitch. “London asked for details. Do you have scan data to send?”

“I have a copy of the autopsy file including photographs.”

“Send it to Delissa Wright,” Ianto said. That should keep her from asking for confirmation again. 

Geraint turned to leave and stopped as if realizing something. “How did London find out?”

“I don’t know.”

“The false reports all died from cancer or complications from failed immune systems. Not all were from Cardiff. Some were transferred from other cities and rural areas.” Geraint obviously suspected something. “It’s a lot of effort for a prank. Notifying London…”

“Anything suspicious?”

“Not so far.”

One thing Ianto learned working for Torchwood was intuition went a lot farther than conventional investigative techniques. “Consult with Owen.” He was less specialized and would have a better idea of mundane medical statistics.

Ianto felt uneasy as Geraint left. Cardiff had the highest concentration of monks and hybrids. When Kylia arrived, he tried not to think about the odds. She represented the life he lost when the Cyberman attacked the original Torchwood Institute. With the increased Rift instability and Jack’s change, Ianto had to consider the implications.

The prosthesis hummed. He absently patted it. One more seemingly unrelated mystery. No one knew where it came from or how it attached itself. Somehow it went through the medical facility, and paranoid security, unnoticed and attached itself. Jack, the original Jack, wondered if it was some type of surveillance or infiltration device. Nothing supported either theory. Ianto wished it could talk.


	3. Chapter 3

** Forest Farm; Cardiff, Wales **

Cold, snowy and dark, John Hart walked through the trees near Hide 1, an area for bird watching. He reviewed his wrist-strap and the ever-changing scan results. After two years, he was long past entertaining the idea he lost his mind. He didn’t know what caused the anomalous readings.  What he was looking for was impossible. But after the Time Agency and Torchwood, he had hope.

I am insane, John thought. And not for the first time. When he woke up in Brazil near the Solstice Park, it took days to determine his wrist-strap hadn’t malfunctioned. He’d been ejected from a time line that no longer existed. It sounded like a drunken Time Agency story.  Let me tell you about the time I survived a thirty year temporal explosion.

Yet, there weren’t a lot of ways to fake a vortex-manipulator signature. It looked almost exactly like his. He theorized numerous fantastical possibilities to explain it. They were caught in some type of Rift event. The wrist-straps saved them. Except he’d seen no indication of a second Jack or that the current one had been affected.

Several feet from the anomaly, John stopped. He needed to know. Except he wasn’t sure he could handle the truth. For two years he chased an impossible dream. Now, faced with the destruction of that fantasy, he was frozen in place. Tears welled in his eyes. You’re not dead, he told himself. Except she was. Conclusive proof was on the other side of then trees.

“John?” A faint voice called.

Unsteady, he followed the sound through the trees. “Anwen.” He rushed over. 

She used her arms to pull herself free of an energy distortion. The hairs on his arms stood as he grabbed her and dragged her free. 

“Where are we?” She sounded weak.

“Forest Farm.” He then added, “2019.”

Anwen pushed herself up. “How?”

John stood and helped her stand. “I don’t know.” He struggle to remove his coat while holding her up. “It’s February.” He wrapped his coat around her.

“2019,” she repeated as he half carried her through the snow. “I was ten.”

“No.” John didn’t know how to tell her. When he first arrived in Cardiff, he looked for her family. What he found made no more sense than anything else.

“What?”

He tightened his grip. “You don’t exist. Your mom died in 2016.” Under questionable circumstances. “Your dad owns a haulage firm.”

“Someone changed the past.”

“Significantly.” After finding out about the time changes, John checked his first visit in Cardiff. As far as he could tell, the damage he caused never happened. “Gray didn’t kill Sato. She’s living in London with Harper.”

“How?” Anwen asked, not expecting an answer.

When she stumbled, he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She argued weakly, but there wasn’t much she could do. His car waited on Melingruffydd, one of the few roads weaving through Forest Farm. He thought about Whitchurch Hospital nearby. He had no idea how he would explain her condition at the A&E if it came to that. The hub would be better. Better equipment and an understanding of temporal displacement. Particularly if he hadn’t burned his bridges with Jack.

“Where are we going?” Anwen asked as he tucked her into the front seat of his lorry.

“I have a flat.” It wasn’t much.

After carefully closing the door, John hurried around the boot to the driver’s side. He hadn’t expected to find her. He hoped but hadn’t believed.

He climbed in and quickly turned on the lorry to get the heat started. They both needed it.

Anwen turned as he started driving. The road was unlit and hadn’t been plowed. “You were looking for me.” 

“I arrived in South America two years ago. By the time I got to Cardiff, I was receiving messages from your wrist-strap. I had to wait until the signal was strong enough to find and then pierce the distortion.” The specifics were lengthy and could wait.

“What did Jack say?” She watched John a moment. “You didn’t tell him?”

“No.” He thought about it more than once. “What would I have said? You don’t exist here.” It would have looked like he was trying to manipulate Jack emotionally. 

“Take me to him. Scans will support my identity and how I got here.” Anwen sighed. “I don’t want a medical examine at a primitive A&E.”

 

** Torchwood Three **

Jack Harkness stepped into the expanded garden. It looked a lot different since the last time he saw it. He didn’t have a lot of clear memories of his relationship with Ianto. Decades did that. But he remembered they spent more than one night in the garden. Torchwood had been simpler, saner then.

“Stay away from the plants in red pots,” Ianto called. He wasn’t visible through the foliage.

Jack smiled, but kept the humor from his voice. “Why?”

As expected, Ianto walked toward him. When he pushed through the leaves, he looked different from earlier. The casual clothes suggested he was off the clock. “They’re toxic, poisonous or carnivorous.” He held a spray bottle and motioned toward a pot against the wall.

Jack remembered that much. “I found the entertainment center. I thought maybe a movie.”

“Why?”

I owe you, Jack thought, for a growing list of mistakes. He didn’t recognize the version of himself he replaced. Maybe losing Ianto in the original time line changed more than Jack originally thought. “I missed a date.” 

Ianto hadn’t expected that. It was an expression Jack saw too often in the last two days. “It wasn’t a date.” Ianto sighed. “Sex led to an argument. Then plans. Jack, you…” Ianto wasn’t sure how to explain. “Canceled at the last minute. A restaurant grand opening was offered as an apology. A Weevil exploded in a church. We planned to go another night.” 

That somewhat explained the comments about the missed dates. Jack suspected it wasn’t the first time something similar happened. 

Jack wrist-strap chimed, interrupting. The only time that happened, John contacted him. With the temporal explosion, Jack hadn’t thought about the possibility anyone else survived. He flipped it open. 

“Short version,” John said. “I’m in Cardiff. My woman needs medical attention. Extended temporal displacement.” 

“Anwen survived.”

“Yeah.” John hadn’t expected that. “You remember.”

Jack looked at Ianto apologetically. “Yeah. Bring her to the hub.”

“We’re in the garage.” 

 

Ianto Jones helped the woman on the medical cot. She kept staring at him. If he understood the pieces of conversation he overheard she was from future Torchwood. It probably explained while she looked familiar. He met one or both of her parents at some point.

“Do you know how the scan works?” he asked, walking around the cot.

Anwen smiled weakly. “Yes.”

The computer flagged several things at once. “You have Rift energy.” That reminded him of the monk Jack and Kylia dealt with earlier.

“That’s normal.” She turned toward him. “I need to see the readout.”

Ianto turned the screen.

Anwen swore in Welsh. “Burn.”

“Meaning?”

She laid back on the cot. “I couldn’t take down a four-year-old with a plastic ray gun.”

“The rest of the energy is consistent with a temporal distortion.” It flagged one of the unexplained alarms that started days earlier. “How did it happen?”

“I don’t know.” Anwen shook her head. “The last thing I remember was reviewing a seismic report from Argentina. I needed to notify Rex.” Pause. “Did you deal with the Blessing?”

“No.” Ianto wasn’t sure he should answer her questions.

She reached for his hand. “I’m not a security threat.” The prosthesis didn’t object to her touch.

“How do you know me?” It was possible he was still alive in 2047.

“I grew up hearing Ianto stories. The hub manager that somehow managed the office without staff and kept Jack out of trouble.”

No matter how morbid, Ianto couldn’t help but wonder how he died. A moment later, he realized something he should have two days earlier when Jack changed. He wasn’t trying to reconnect because his girlfriend died. It was survivor’s guilt. 

Ianto turned to ask Anwen how he died, but she was sound asleep.

 

Jack Harkness stood in the hallway outside the infirmary. While he had reservations about John working with Torchwood, he had a long list of accomplishments. Jack didn’t know how John’s relationship with Anwen started, but it appeared solid. She somehow cleaned him up and dried him out. Something the Time Agency failed more than once.

“Any theories?”

John held up his hands. “My best guess is someone attempted to prevent the war by resetting time. But they didn’t have complete information.”

That unfortunately made sense. “How did that result in human alien hybrids and monks?”

“I don’t know. The answer has to be here.” John looked exhausted. “The Institute is withholding information from Cardiff because the British government or Torchwood black ops did something before the Institute was reestablished. It’s blamed for hybrids and monks.” He shook his head. “Both are side-effects of ongoing temporal effects.”

“Did you see Tosh’s files?”

“Yeah. She concluded the temporal effects are related to a Rift accident that affected time.” John hesitated. “If a temporal disruption interacted with a second one, it could cause a chain reaction.” 

Jack suspected the accident was Owen intentionally opening the Rift. From what Ianto said, this time line had problems as a result. The consequences couldn’t have been anticipated. 

The door to the infirmary opened and Ianto stepped into the hall. “Anwen’s sleeping.” It slid shut behind him. “Her scan readings are strange but not life-threatening.”

That was good news at least.

“She said she was reviewing seismic reports from Argentina. And asked about the Blessing. Does that mean something?”

Unfortunately, Jack thought. The ancient entity could alter the planet’s population with a sample of his blood. In theory, it could cause other global affects. But altering decades required more than a bomb. 

“We need to scan it.”

“The Blessing is gone,” John said. “The entrances in Argentina and Shanghai were never built.”


	4. Cursed

** Abandoned Medical Facility; Cardiff, Wales **

** Friday, February 8, 2019 **

Why are we doing this in February, Garry Clough wondered again. Construction started in the spring on a new building. They wouldn’t have easy access to the area. While there were stories about what the building had been used for, he doubted it was worth it. Even if the government ran experiments there, it didn’t leave evidence lying around for urban explorers. If anything was left, it was unlikely to be identifiable. The building was closed in the 1980s.

Resigned to stupidity he helped plan, Garry checked his equipment again. The others called him paranoid. They were entering a building condemned decades ago. At the time it was built, safety standards and health requirements were very different. It was dangerous. 

“Ready?” David asked.

“Yeah.” Garry slid the mask over his face. Rather than try to convince anyone that air quality was an issue, he told them it made breathing the cold air easier. They couldn’t wear balaclavas. He wore safety glasses and wished the others did, but couldn’t think of a way to sell the idea.

Seeing the repelling rope reminded Garry again why it was a bad idea. It’s the wrong season. They didn’t have the right safety equipment. But he wanted to see the building and knew he’d regret it if he didn’t go.

One by one the trio went down the rope. Garry checked everything was holding before climbing into the hole. An eerie feeling settled over him as he descended. He felt watched. It had to be his imagination, he told himself. But didn’t believe it. With as many abandoned buildings as they’d entered, he knew what to expect. When his paranoia flared, it felt different.

David set a hand on Garry’s shoulder. After the abandoned asylum they entered while on holiday in Europe, and the disaster they barely escaped, no one would say anything. If they listened to him sooner, it wouldn’t have taken three hours to free themselves from the cave-in and no one would have gotten hurt. No one questioned his issues after that.

Seeing the room illuminated by their lamp’s harsh light, Garry suspected the eerie feeling was more than security concerns. The room was impressively intact despite the hole in the ceiling. It looked like they stepped into a time capsule. There was no litter or graffiti to indicate anyone else had been there. 

“…To boldly go…” Ariana quoted Captain Kirk, her voice muffled through her face mask. Then headed for a door across the room.

“This is wrong,” Garry said quietly to David. “The hole is convenient.”

David nodded. He’d said as much himself. When he and Drew scout the place two other times they had been unable to find access to the lower levels. They spent two hours checking the structural integrity and been unable to determine what caused the hole.

“Anything specific?” David asked.

Garry shook his head. He wasn’t sensing danger. He felt watched. While ghosts made sense if it had been a medical facility, he didn’t think it was that simple. 

“If that changes, say something.” 

They followed Ariana and Drew down a hallway in better condition than the room they left. From the dust, and lack of insects, rodents or plants, it looked like it had been used recently. Even as Garry told himself it was crazy, he knew it was possible to have a concealed entrance. As long as they kept it inaccessible to explorers like themselves, occupancy would have gone unnoticed.

Twenty minutes later, Garry wished he’d been wrong.

 

** Torchwood Three **

Jack Harkness followed Ianto through the hallway leading from the garage. For whatever reason, spending time with him, even if it involves searching rubbish bins for possible alien technology, reminded Jack of Sioned’s comments to move on. Equally confusing, it heightened the guilt. The insanity of the time change didn’t help. 

Kylia waited for them on the other side of the big door. He still didn’t know what the issue was. Ianto wasn’t jealous. He appeared protective. Her file was puzzling. Ianto created an entire background including education and birth records. It took a lot of time and effort. Jack waited hoping one of them would explain.

“We have a report of a secret government office. A video recording with narration. Photos. Nothing has appeared online yet.” She looked uncertain. “The computer says the pictures are real. Everything sounds like a terrified person that found something that could get them killed.” Pause. “If it’s legit, we need to expose it before he disappears.”

They received global claims regularly. London received more. Few involved official threats. Most were misunderstanding. Some were intentional fakes for varied reasons. While Jack knew the government could retaliate, if threatened, there were easier ways to deal with most national security issues. Making civilians disappear in the middle of the night was the last resort.

“Why do you think it’s real?” Jack asked.

“The wording,” she concluded. “It’s calm, rational. No outrageous claims.” Pause. “And it’s unique. He scouted a site that interested him. Urban exploring. An unexplained hole in an otherwise stable floor gave him access. Everything in the underground facility looks recently used. Despite being listed as decommissioned and condemned.” Pause. “The computers, decor, layout. Everything looks like a normal government office you would find in London.”

That was different. “Experimentation?”

Kylia handed him a tablet. Jack flipped through the pictures. It looked innocent. Except the storage room resembled the Torchwood Institute in the 1970s. He zoomed in on an artifact sitting on a desk. He recognized the unique sextant. It belonged to a former Torchwood agent, and Royal Navy officer, that was recruited after an incident involving a sea monster.

Jack held it out to Ianto. If the Institute he worked at before the Cyberman invasion was the same as the one Jack remembered in the original time line, Ianto would recognize the sixteenth century antique. There were photographs in several areas including the device. He also tended to read both hub records and files salvaged from London.

“Ainslie Ignmire.” Ianto looked at Jack. “It’s a Torchwood office.”

 

Ianto Jones, leaned on the edge of Jack’s desk, checking Cardiff conspiracy theory files. For various reasons, what people believed affected investigations. It also helped to understand reports. Urban legends and ghost stories occasionally influenced witness descriptions, particularly if an alien or artifact resembled a local story. People rarely understood that outrageous coincidences happened. 

“Stories about the building started before it officially closed. One recent investigation.” Ianto used the word loosely. “A reporter cites various government reports, articles, books and personal accounts. She claims the government experimented on children labeled disposable. She claims that statistics showing an increase in life expectancy and quality of life prove something happened.”

Jack looked up. “Why is that bad?”

“Unexplained side-effects include personality changes.”

“Pod people?”

Ianto smiled. “No. Those rumors are specific to London government officials.”

Jack vaguely remember an actual situation involving alien impersonators. “What type of experiments?”

“She suspects it involved immunology. Possibly using retroviruses to change people’s DNA.” It didn’t fit scientific knowledge from the 1980s and earlier.

“Not with contemporary technology.”

Ianto agreed. “Ignmire specialized in ocean-based investigations.” There was no reason for him to be in Cardiff.

“Someone could have taken his sextant for their desk after he died,” Jack concluded. “We have no record of a Torchwood or government office in that location.”

Even knowing Jack couldn’t be permanently hurt, the situation made Ianto nervous. “Geraint will know what equipment you need.”

 

** Abandoned Medical Facility **

Jack Harkness arrived after dark. Not that it matter. Everything he needed to check was underground. Using a flashlight, and provided directions, he easily found the snowy trail left by the urban explorers. The person reporting it claimed he was alone in an obvious attempt to protect his friends. Dragging his feet through the snow to destroy their footprints concealed the group’s size and possibly gender.

An eerie feeling settled over Jack as he reached the building. It felt like he was being watched. His first thought was the young man that reported it. Except he sounded genuinely afraid the government would come after him. Without more information, Jack didn’t have another theory.

Shining a light over the window they used to gain entry, he suspected the plywood didn’t come loose. Someone carefully pried it off. Except there were no tool marks. He inspected the discarded board, and the nails that held it in place, and concluded he had no idea how it was removed. 

With growing suspicions, Jack checked the room beyond the window before climbing inside. Nothing suggested typical structural decay. Abandoned buildings had cracks, holes, vandalism and indications of rodents or other animals. It looked maintained despite the boarded windows. Walking through the building following glow-in-the dark duct tape added to his questions. 

It felt staged. Jack checked the room before approaching the hole in the floor and everything looked solid. He crouched to examine the damage. Like the plywood, he couldn’t immediately determine what caused the damage. Someone removed part of the cement floor without destabilizing it. 

Jack tapped his ear com. “Ianto.”

“Yep.”

“I need you to ask Geraint if he has ideas.” Jack described what he was seeing. “Search and rescue equipment is the only idea I have for contemporary technology.”

“Trap?”

Jack doubted it. He removed a glove, flipped open his wrist-strap with his bare hand and programmed a scan. The remaining technology was pretty obvious. It was a Torchwood office. He doubted it had been used recently, but someone had maintained it. 

“No. Someone wanted the office found.”

Static crackled over the connection. Jack scanned against using his wrist-strap. A government response team was moving in. It reminded him of the destruction of the hub in the time line he came from and confirmed the seriousness of the discovery.

Unsure of the best escape route, Jack prepared to enter the hole with a modified alien levitation device. He could find another way out or hide until Ianto had the Institute deal with it.

Then a scream pierced the night and a thud against the building. Three more followed. It reminded Jack of the eerie feeling he felt approaching the building.

“Jack?” Ianto’s concerned voice came over the ear com.


	5. Chapter 5

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

Standing in the conference room facing the wall mounted screen for a video conference, Ianto Jones wondered about Institute management. When he worked in London, he saw a competent organization. Seeing it from the outside, it looked like a BBC comedy about law enforcement. Wright’s stupid act had him wondering if it was an act.

“We don’t have another office in Cardiff,” Wright insisted.

Ianto nodded. “Jack is on-site and has already confirmed it. As the security has been breached, him and Geraint are packing the files and computers.” They recruited Rhys and Johnny for lorries and extra hands.

“We don’t have jurisdiction.”

Ianto gripped his hands in front of him and barely kept from groaning. “Something killed an armed four-person government response team wearing body armor. Geraint is unable to determine cause of death.” Pause. “An unknown number of civilians, Jack and Geraint, entered the building without a problem. Whatever killed the response team objected to them specifically.” Possibly defending Jack. “An unknown entity killing people makes it Torchwood jurisdiction.”

“Entity?”

Where did Torchwood find you? “Yes. No external damage. No footprints in the snow. No evidence of energy weapons.” 

“Send copies of the scan data.”

“I already did.” Ianto sent them with the initial report. Dead government agents at a secret government facility was a potential media nightmare. Sooner or later, the civilians would post their story or share it after to many drinks and someone would post it. Ideally, they didn’t know about the dead men. However it happened, Torchwood and the government needed to prepare for the possibility a mainstream reporter would take it seriously. 

“I need to confirm the technology and entity conclusions before anything is removed.”

Ianto took a moment trying to decide the most diplomatic approach to that level of stupid. “Jack made the jurisdiction determination.” While it wasn’t mentioned, most Institute management knew he took charge of the hub on New Years Day 2000. A few were aware he’d been with Torchwood since at least the 1980s. “If there is a valid reason you don’t want us dismantling that office, you need to tell me now. Jack is not going to stop because someone with less knowledge and experience wants to second-guess his field decisions.”

“That is not acceptable.”

The door slid open and Kylia stepped into the conference room holding a tablet. 

“Then discuss it with Jack.” Ianto reached out and disconnected the video chat.

Kylia held out the small computer. “Every official document on that building is fake. Who constructed it. Who owned it then and now. What it was used for. When and why it was condemned.” 

“We need to consider the possibility a conspiracy theory reporter has accurate information.” The amount of secrecy and effort fit with unethical experimentation claims. 

 

After the last boxes were unloaded, Jack Harkness headed for the kitchen area. He had questions. Geraint didn’t want Ianto lifting because of the prosthesis and wouldn’t explain why Kylia couldn’t help. The more Jack thought about it, he suspected the late twenty-something was related to Ianto. The question was how. Lisa came to mind. But if she and Ianto had a child, the kid would be a teenager.

Jack stepped through the door as it opened. Ianto sat at the table with a pile of tablets, a laptop and notebooks. One more question he didn’t know how to ask. They had several offices and four people. Ianto opted not to chose one for himself.

“The Institute is leaving rude messages.” Ianto handed Jack a tablet. “Despite all evidence to the contrary, Wright insists we don’t have jurisdiction. She claims she reviewed the scan details and found nothing to justify it.”

“What was her explanations for the deaths?” Jack claimed a seat across from Ianto.

“Explosive device.”

“That would have shown up on the scans.”

Ianto nodded. “London doesn’t want us finding something. Based on our research, medical experimentation with alien technology is possible. The conspiracy article has more reliable information than city records on that building.”

“Where is Kylia?” 

“Hopefully in bed.” Ianto turned back to his research.

“In the middle of an investigation,” Jack prompted.

“Nothing left to do tonight.”

Except move boxes and review two large storage rooms full of files and a dozen computer hard drives. “Ianto.”

He looked up.

“How is Kylia related?”

“She’s my granddaughter. From a universe where Cyberman didn’t destroy the Institute.”

Jack stared at Ianto a moment. “How?”

He shrugged. “A delayed result of Owen opening the Rift.”

“It’s not listed in the files.” Jack wondered what else he hadn’t been told.

“The Institute hacks our files. We have to change the encryption every few months. It’s why me and Kylia use Welsh in the field and Geraint uses Czech. It makes it harder to read.”

“When did this start?” Jack knew there were problems between Cardiff and London over classified files. But that sounded like control issues.

“Soon after the Institute was reopened. Pierce Covington tried to replace you. Before realizing there was no one who could force control over the hub.” 

Jack knew he heard the name. Having been with Torchwood since Victorian times, he met a lot of people. Some had similar or the same names. The time change didn’t help. He had no idea if he met the man in the past or future and if the change affected the meeting. “What’s Covington’s issue?”

“Before the change, you concluded it was control. Covington can’t control you. He tried convincing the prime minister you’re a national security threat. When she didn’t believe him, it got worse.”

 

Geraint Hughes set-up a table and chair in the hallway between the storage room. He used a docking station to remote upload hard drives. Any computer equipment they brought into the hub had to be reviewed as a potential plant. Typical malware wasn’t a threat. Computers used by Torchwood could have alien tech enhanced security. The Institute had intentionally planted malicious devices.

With the transfer started, Geraint focused on the nearest filing cabinet. The files were from the mid 1970s. The first one contained reports from what appeared to be other facilities and projects. Without a frame of reference for the obvious code or jargon, he flipped through the files and skimmed information looking for details.

An entry listing items recovered from Amroth beach, presumably from an old shipwreck, reminded him of a holiday Jolana wanted in Pembrokeshire. She found a bed-and-breakfast with a pirate theme similar to restaurants in the area. He stopped and closed his eyes. Three days out of his hectic schedule. But he was too busy. There was always another crisis or medical mystery. He took her for granted.

The docking station chimed with a finished upload distracting Geraint from his pain. He removed one hard drive and inserted another. When the initial scan announced the drive clear with another chime, Geraint turned back to the files.

He didn’t remember reading anything about a tech discovery on the beach. Since Jack brought him to Cardiff to monitor Ianto’s metamorphic arm, Geraint reviewed every Torchwood tech discovery since the 1950s. He focused on potential medical devices. 

Using a tablet, he connected to the hub computer and searched for Amroth. There was an incident in the 60s involving weird marijuana, but nothing involving technology. Wondering if the location was inaccurate in the computer or the files, Geraint expanded his search to discoveries on the coast between Cardiff and Swansea and found nothing comparable.

He tapped his ear com. “Jack, I found something.”

 

Jack Harkness settled into his office with a stack of files and an uneasy feeling. He needed information from the other version of himself. His personal, secured files suggested paranoia. Viewing his computer presets, he concluded the situation was a lot worse than what Ianto told him. Hacking the hub was nearly impossible. Active scanners and passive sensors would identify threats at the entrances. But he had all external and internal communications flagged. All calls, uploads and downloads to London were recorded. Either the other version didn’t trust his own people or suspected the hub was or could be infiltrated. Nothing he found explained it.

What were you looking for? Psychologically analyzing his own behavior should have been simple. He checked to see when it started. Gwen’s death under questionable circumstances could have triggered a psychological problem. Except the date correlated to Ianto’s return from the London hospital.

Was it the arm? Or did you treat Ianto so badly you were afraid he would betray you to London?

Why did John find himself in Brazil two years ago? Was the extended search for Anwen intentional? Jack wondered if his return right before the appearance of an unusual monk and the discovery of a secret facility in Cardiff meant something. It could mean nothing. 

What if replacing the other version of myself was intentional? Does that solve a problem? Or cause one? Without more information, he would go crazy trying to figure it out. He couldn’t help but wonder if something like that actually happened.

Or was the paranoia and bad behavior somehow calculated? Jack suspected he preferred that answer. The other options painted an ugly picture. Regardless of circumstances, a leader that lost confidence in his people was a disaster waiting to happen. 

Jack grabbed a file and tried to focus, but his thoughts kept returning to the time changes. How did someone use the Blessing to change thirty years? He doubted anyone could have accurately predicted what would happen. Whatever was happening was filled with unintended consequences. Unless it was another insane Time Lord.


	6. Chapter 6

** Roald Dahl Plass; Cardiff, Wales **

** Saturday, February 9, 2019 **

Jack Harkness waited for John at the railing overlooking water. The coffee shop was better, but the empty outdoor location made it easier to use anti-eavesdropping technology. It reminded him of the paranoia concerns. Except Jack knew they had a problem. 

“Why couldn’t we meet indoors?” John asked, motioning toward the Red Dragon Centre. “At the coffee shop.” 

“I have a problem.”

John smiled. “Just one?”

Jack ignored the joke. “Has London breached Cardiff security?” John returned two years earlier and started his search for answers in England.

“Not the hub. Your devices, including communications.”

“Why?”

John shrugged. “Covington is a Royal Navy guy. Rules, regs. His leadership style is ‘my way or the highway.’” 

Jack knew the type. “Did you access the hub?”

“No. I avoided you.” John smiled. “Could you picture me trying to explain Anwen?”

That made sense. Jack couldn’t think of another explanation for the other version’s paranoia. Unless it wasn’t the first time a replacement was made. “Any ideas on resolving the problem with London?”

“Nothing practical. Anwen is losing her patience with Covington.”

Jack removed a tablet from his coat pocket. “This will distract her.” He handed it to John. “There was a secret Torchwood/government office in Cardiff. The Institute denies it and is interfering.”

Reluctantly, John accepted. “It could set her off.”

“Is it the burn?”

John shook his head slightly. “No. It’s losing everything.” He sighed. “Or what we had left.”

“Go on an extended holiday. The west coast has horse farms. Anwen loves it.”

“That could work for a week. A month. Anwen wants her office back. And with Covington’s incompetence, she’s mad enough to take it.”

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. “We need to figure out what happened and why.” They had much bigger problems then bad leadership at the Institute. “Something destroyed the Blessing. It was capable of affecting my immortality. And it ceased to exist.” 

 

Torchwood Three

Geraint Hughes checked and double checked. Three of the bodies erroneously flagged hybrids came from the same small community bordering a facility listed in a file containing project reports. They were different ages, gender, and had different medical histories. What stood out was that each had been diagnosed with a incurable, debilitating disease that had someone been lessened. He wanted to be wrong. It suggested a similar connection to the other bodies. He sent all the information to Kylia and went looking for Jack.

By the time Geraint reached the office, he wished he had another possibility. But the erroneous bodies were flagged for a reason. If there proved to be a more potentially connected to projects, it suggested the genetic research was somehow tied to human-alien hybrids. 

“I found something.” Geraint crossed the room and handed Jack a tablet. “I recognized two locations in the files and started comparing names.” Geraint explained the potential connections. “If Torchwood was involved, it could explain some of the problems we’ve had.” 

“You found an Amroth case last night a Torchwood investigator dismissed as marijuana related.” Jack sounded distracted. “Compare it to Rasputin.”

“You think the drug is connected to the research facilities?”

Jack nodded. “By 2047, Torchwood realized there are psychic abilities associated with the Rift. Humans adapted to exposure.” He looked at Geraint. “The monk at the museum somehow manipulated Rift energy in a way I haven’t seen. It could be the temporal disruption. Something about the Rasputin plant. Or a genetic adaption to chronons. Particles associated with time travel.”

“That Amroth drug report has no usable information.”

“What’s your theory?” Jack asked.

“What if the technology recovered at Amroth was used in medical experiments? Some participants had positive results. If it was a miracle cure, it would have been publicized. Something went wrong. The research was changed or ended.” It fit with another theory the other Jack had. “We have seen other alien tech with medical potential. That might not have been intended for what humans used it for.”

“Ianto’s arm.”

Geraint nodded. “I don’t think it’s a prosthesis. Or technology.” He hesitated. The conversation hadn’t gone well the last time. 

“You think it’s an alien.”

“And sentient.”

 

Kylia Jones sat back and watched as the multiple screens showed simultaneous searches and comparisons. The Torchwood version of Microsoft Access that queried the Internet and various databases. Each of the deceased lived and worked in in Wales. Each time a background search found an associated school, employer or town, it was logged and compared to the growing list. When two or more people flagged the same association, it was added to yet another list. Another search compared facility locations to places the deceased grew up. When multiple people flagged the same community with a facility, their profiles including age, gender, and medical problems were added to a spreadsheet. What otherwise would have taken days and potentially a team was done automatically.

The door slid open and Ianto entered. She turned and watched him cross the room carrying a tablet. 

“Jack has me reviewing marijuana stories as far back as the sixties.”

“Why?”

Ianto sounded uncertain, “A possible Rasputin case in the sixties. A coincidence. Or related to the research.”

“Jack’s looking for byproducts of unethical research.”

“Yeah. Any ideas how I search and sort?”

Kylia had to think about it. “Marijuana has minimal side-effects short of an allergy. Overdoses are unlikely and would require unusual exposure.”

“Stories involving violence or death are propaganda or a different drug.”

She gently grasped his prosthetic hand. “Is everything all right with Jack?” it was a question she asked often enough. Except this time it meant something different.

“I don’t know. The personality change is…” Ianto trailed off. 

“Jack is Jack.” His quantum signature was impossible to fake. “He loves you. The fact that he came back in time thirty years and still cares says a lot.”

“It’s survivor’s guilt.”

Kylia nodded. “Jack wouldn’t feel guilty if he didn’t care.”

 

Having served in more then one military, Jack Harkness understood chain-of-command and following orders. Strict rules and regulations were needed for it to operate efficiently. While law enforcement had similarities it’s differences were equally important. With everything that happened between Cardiff and London, he opted to make a statement without saying anything. He kept Covington waiting.

Jack used the time to mentally review what he knew of the secret office and the cases extended from the materials they took. Geraint had evidence of questionable research from the sixties and seventies. Ianto and Kylia found supporting information from the Internet and other sources. It was more than enough proof.

Leaning on the table facing the wall-mounted screen, Jack accepted the conference call. Covington appeared on the screen. The man’s appearance told Jack two things immediately: Covington was related to Ingmire and Jack should have looked for a picture before speaking to the man.

“Good evening.” Jack wondered if he met Covington. It could explain his objections.

“Evening.” He was unaccustomed to being left waiting. “We need to discuss the office you raided.”

Jack nodded.

Covington continued, “All the materials need to be returned to the government. Torchwood does not have jurisdiction.”

“No.” Jack waited until the flaring anger passed. “The entity that killed the tactical team gave us jurisdiction. The extensive information detailing unethical medical research and implied alien technology support jurisdiction.” He held up a tablet. “Confirmation of multiple related facilities, and a possible connection to a dozen recent bodies associated with historical research, mandates an investigation.”

Covington took a moment to compose his thoughts. “You have proof?”

“Yes. And much of it’s publicly available. There is enough information on the Internet to attract the mainstream media when the investigation leaks. Any attempt to classify related documents will attract attention.” Pause. “We contained the tactical team. But two people have provided Cardiff Torchwood with details. Survivors of the research, government officials, and Torchwood personnel in London know about the cover-up. The insistence that we don’t have jurisdiction, and claims that I misrepresented an explosive device as an entity, won’t go unnoticed.” Pause. “The media will have proof in a week, two. And we have no way to contain it.”

“Control your people.”

“Mine aren’t the problem. We received a possible case and investigated. We took all necessary precautions to maintain secrecy and protect materials from an unsecured Torchwood facility.” Jack looked down at the tablet and quickly found a picture of the sextant they recovered. He then held it up for Covington to see. “That was recovered from an office.”

“You’re accusing my father of unethical research?”

“No.” Jack gave it a moment. “There are any number of reasons the sextant was removed from the original Institute. But the original report included a photograph. It’s unique enough that I suspected a Torchwood facility before I arrived.” While the man reporting it appeared to photograph everything he had access to, he might have visited Torchwood in London and recognized it from a display.

“Why would Torchwood or the Welsh experiment with alien technology?”

“It was a joint operation between the previous Institute and Whitehall.” Otherwise the hub would have files.

Covington pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will send a qualified,” he emphasized, “medical team.”

“Dr. Hughes is more qualified than anyone in London. Send Ms. Sato and Dr. Harper for support.” 

Covington moved his hands. “It is not up for discussion.”

Jack nodded. “Anyone else is a security risk.”

“As the head of Torchwood, it is my decision who does what.”

“Not in Cardiff,” Jack said. “Your attempts to remove me failed because I am more qualified to run a Torchwood office than you are. As a result, you order continuing attacks on my people and credibility. Whitehall knows you’re overcompensating. The fact that the Institute provided inaccurate information and interfered with a politically sensitive investigation further proves your priority is control. Not Torchwood. Not Great Britain.” He hoped he projected the arrogance Ianto described.


	7. Chapter 7

**Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales**

**Sunday, February 10, 2019**

Ianto Jones lay still, his head resting on Jack’s shoulder. Impulsive sex was the one part of their sporadic relationship Ianto thought he understood. The prelude went predictably. They bumped into each other during dinner clean up. With no one else there, they kissed against the counter. Then went back to Jack’s room. Ianto wasn’t sure what changed by the time they arrived, but Jack couldn’t go through with it. Then insisted Ianto stay.

“Upset?” Jack trailed his finger tips up Ianto’s arm.

“Confused.”

“You deserve better than being a surrogate.” Jack sounded haunted.

Ianto wondered not for the first time what happened in the other time line. It was a hard concept to wrap his mind around. “It’s all this ever was.” Jack loved Gwen. For this version of Jack, she had been replaced with a woman named Sioned that Ianto suspected was a lot like Gwen.

“No.” Jack shifted, resting a hand on Ianto’s upper arm. “I learned the hard way how much you mean to me.”

Ianto imagined hearing something along those lines for years. No matter how much he wanted it, he didn’t believe it. “I don’t want an illusion.”

Jack kissed Ianto’s forehead. “I don’t have a right to ask, but give me time.”

“Does this new you require celibacy.”

Jack’s response was drowned out by an alarm. The door to the fake tourist office was forced. That was the easy part. The intruders needed to get through the secured door to the elevator, override security and reach the big door. Difficult but not impossible.

“Computer, lights,” Ianto ordered as he slid off the bed and hurried over to his clothes. One advantage to their changed plans was he had everything folded. It wasn’t scattered all over the floor.

The alarm stopped and the intercom clicked. “Scans indicate intruders are using Torchwood technology,” Geraint said. “I deployed nonfatal defenses first.”

Xylia announced, “Seismic disruptions in the traffic tunnel under Bute Place.”

“Jack,” Geraint said, “I don’t have stun defenses to protect the walls. Any damage will destabilize the foundation and risk a flood. It has to be repaired at the molecular level.”

“Give them a warning. Then do what you have to do.”

Ianto finished fastening his pants and headed for the door. “I will be in the conference room.” Trying to figure out how to explain we killed a Torchwood team trying to breach the hub.

 

Jack Harkness stood outside the conference room. He flipped open his wrist-strap and muted the intercom. The reports were good and bad. The team in the hallway didn’t reach the elevator. One of the intruders in the traffic tunnel was dead and two more were injured. It remind him of the government bomb that destroy the hub in the original time line.

“John Hart.”

“What happened?” John sounded tired.

“Hub security breach. It’s contained, but we need a bot replicator, bots…” Jack wasn’t sure how to ask if Anwen was recovered enough to offer security.

“Give us thirty minutes.” She swore in Welsh.

“What is she saying?” Jack asked not sure he wanted to know.

“Something about gutting Covington and feeding him to the pigs.” John hesitated. “She calls the politicians on Whitehall that hired him pigs.”

Some things didn’t change. “Securing the hub is the priority.”

“Check on my dad and Ianto’s family,” Anwen said. “I wouldn’t put it passed Covington to try leverage next.”

The conversation ended in strained pleasantries. Jack closed his wrist-strap and stepped toward the door. It slid open revealing the conference room. He stepped inside.

Ianto stood in front of the screen looking annoyed, gripping his prosthetic hand too tightly in front of him. “I sent the scan data.”

“That’s not possible,” the young man on the screen argued. “Torchwood doesn’t attack it’s own offices.”

“Review the information.”

“As I said,” the man emphasized, “I’m not authorized to view it. The morning shift supervisor…”

“You need to wake someone,” Ianto injected firmly. “We already ran facial recognition. All ten would-be intruders are Torchwood tactical response. Based in London.” Ianto listed their names.

“Someone will call you back.” The call was disconnected.

Ianto released his grip and his artificial thumb twitched. “I called the emergency line. It’s Torchwood’s 999. It was redirected automatically.” He motioned at the screen. “The kid had no idea what he was doing. He’s a night shift operator whose job is to tell people with general inquiries to call back during London business hours.”

 

The Torchwood Institute; London, England

Pierce Covington stood at the large window in his office as the sun rose. The op should have been simple. Researchers assured him they could breach the hub. When Whitehall asked, he would stick to the truth as much as possible. Harkness overstepped his authority, raided a government office and refused to release sensitive materials vital to national security. The hub’s unanticipated defenses supported the argument that Harkness went rogue. He withheld information from headquarters. More proof Harkness endangered Torchwood. Except it wouldn’t be accepted.

If Whitehall found out about the historic projects in Wales, it would lead to closer scrutiny. Decisions were made and projects launched that were socially and politically acceptable at the time. People didn’t understand that times changed. Exposing the past would threaten the future. Somehow the government lost the ability to see that.

A knock sounded at the door a moment before it opened. Langford Talbot entered, his footsteps barely audible on the carpet. Covington found the young man annoying. His parents Derrin and Janne Talbot worked for Torchwood since the 1980s or 90s. His father was an Army man. When Janne recommended Langford work in the new Institute, Covington tried to find a way out of it. He suggested Langford join the Army first.

“The prime minister’s office is on line 1, sir.”

Resigned, Covington turned and walked over to his desk. Explaining a successful recovery would have been easier. The failure coupled by the fact that Harkness knew what he had, and refused to contain it, complicated matters. The last attempt to remove him hadn’t worked. Even pointing out he claimed a military title he hadn’t earned didn’t help. Covington needed a new approach.

“Do you need anything else?”

A useful assistant, Covington thought as he settled behind his desk. “No.” He reached for the desk phone.

 

**Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales**

Jack Harkness coordinated from the conference room anticipating a call from the prime minister. He spoke to five people already in Cardiff and London. While he made an effort not to make negative comments about the Institute in general, or Covington specifically, opinions weren’t good.

The door slid open and Geraint entered. Jack looked up. The doctor looked concerned.

“Your friends are crazy.”

Jack smiled. “Why?”

“They’re in a storage room with a replication device. Producing large, automated vacuum cleaners.”

Jack laughed. “Maintenance bots.” Anwen called them Roombas. “Torchwood will eventually use them for everything.”

Geraint sat down in his usual seat two chairs away on the left. “Why did you bring them here?” Geraint sounded like he was working toward asking something. “Anwen is talking about taking the Institute by force.”

Jack’s humor faded. “In 2047, she was the head of Torchwood.” Jack had no idea how to explain. “She’s not happy with current leadership.”

Geraint removed a hand-held scanner from his pocket. “She looked familiar…” He trailed off. “She’s Gwen’s daughter. Except Gwen didn’t have any.” Pause. “Did Jolana have children?”

“I don’t know.” Jack didn’t remember meeting a Jolana Hughes. Like Gwen, Geraint’s wife might have used her maiden name professionally.

“Gwen might have been targeted to prevent Anwen from…”

Jack knew he should have thought of that. “What is your wife’s maiden name?”

"Prochazka. It’s Czech.”

Which potentially explained why Geraint spoke the language fluently. “I don’t recognize it.” Jack needed to ask Anwen. She prided herself in knowing as many Torchwood employees as possible.

Geraint’s shoulder’s slumped. “The temporal anomalies. You, Kylia, your friends. It’s the only idea I have left.” He sighed. “There is a case file from 2006. A group of people in a plane were caught in a distortion. It brought them decades into the future.”

Jack nodded. Diane’s arrival caused Owen to have a psychological meltdown.

“I bribed case information from an Institute archivist.” Geraint wasn’t proud of it. “His son needed experimental surgery. I agreed to perform it for information. The boy survived,” he emphasized. “Jolana’s disappearance is a locked room mystery. She was seen on CCTV entering a section of the excavation through the only access point. She couldn’t have left. But she did.”

“Did the other version of me have a theory?”

Geraint nodded. “Jack wouldn’t share.”

That fit with the paranoia, but it didn’t help. Jack suspected there were hidden data storage devices. It was what he would do. He hadn’t found them yet, but it probably required knowing where they were.

“I need to know what happened.”

Jack sympathized. It was easier for him. The Gwen he knew died years ago and there was no mystery about who or why or how. “If I find the answer, I will tell you.” Although not knowing was better than some possibilities.

 

**Derrin and Janne Talbot’s Flat; London, England**

Langford Talbot grabbed a vase from the cupboard and partly filled it with water. He set it on the counter and arranged the bouquet he picked up for his mother after work. As his shift started before dawn, he was allowed to leave early. With nothing left to do, Covington didn’t like the request.

“They’re lovely, dear.” Janne set a hand on his back.

Affectionate and conniving, Langford thought. “Today wasn’t that stressful, mum. You didn’t have make dinner.” He turned to look at her.

“Nonsense.” She assured. “It’s not every day the Torchwood Institute attacks Cardiff. With all the politicians and bureaucratic silliness, you deserve it.”

While he knew she cared, she also wanted information. It was the whole reason she got him the job. Until Covington was hired to reestablish the Institute, she focused on which university he would attend. Langston suspected the list would reappear once Covington had been replaced. Unless mum didn’t like his replacement.

“It could have been worse. Someone had to wake the prime minister.”

“Oh, dear.”

Langford at times wondered why anyone bought the act. She sounded like a clueless housewife from an old comedy. Maybe living with her gave him insight. She could plot an assassination with the same cheerful confidence as a church bake sale. And while she hadn’t outright said it, he suspected she had been plotting against Covington the entire time he worked for Torchwood.

“Why did Covington do it?”

“Captain Harkness uncovered an unethical research project in Cardiff.” Langford suspected she knew more about it than Covington. “The Welsh weren’t happy before the attack. No one accepted Covington’s excuses. He wanted to hide what the Captain found.”

“Shining a light on past mistakes is not always the best idea.”

Langford nodded. One of the many reasons he saw through his mother’s act was comments that didn’t fit. “Civilians reported the situation. There are Internet rumors now that armed police from London were killed trying to prevent Captain Harkness from viewing the site. Attacking the hub validates the rumors.” Pause. “People made bad decisions. The guilty are either dead or too old to re-offend. Say ‘sorry, it won’t happen again.’ Congratulate Captain Harkness for doing the right thing.” Pause. “It’s easier to keep secrets when civilians aren’t suspicious.”

She agreed. “How did Whitehall react?”

“I don’t know.”


	8. Chapter 8

** Nunman Medical Clinic; Nunman, Wales **

** Tuesday, February 11, 2019 **

Jack Harkness led into the building decorated in beige and shades of green. It offered general medical services for the community and surrounding area. With a small population, it didn’t have a hospital or morgue. From a brief chat with the special constable in charge of local law enforcement, the four bodies were the first suspicious deaths in sixty years. 

Despite the investigation, the clinic was still open for business. A man in his mid seventies and another in his late forties sat with a young pregnant women between them. They looked like three generations of the same family. 

Margred Rice waited at the front desk. A tall, sturdy woman in casual clothes and sensible shoes. Jack recognized her from the picture Xylia found on social media. Rice was a volunteer police officer. Her paying job was the head of a school offering primary and secondary classes. She carried different colored pocket folders and a spiral notebook with tabs. 

“Captain Jack Harkness and Doctor Geraint Hughes.” He held out his hand.

She shook it. “I received conflicting information. Scotland Yard, Cardiff PD and the Torchwood Institute insisted they will assist. Cardiff has no problem with you. The English are contradicting themselves.”

“Can we talk privately?” Jack asked.

Rice motioned in the direction opposite the waiting room. A door said “employees only.” Then led across the small room and through the door. 

Only a framed poster on the right wall with a Welsh slogan offered color in the drab, functional hallway. Geraint chuckled as they walked past it.

“You don’t speak Welsh, Captain Harkness?” Rice asked.

“No.” He never had a reason to learn. 

“You should try it.”

Sioned suggested the same thing in humor. Each time, he told her he preferred the people to the language. She responded with a sexual innuendo. More often than not the conversation descended into brothel jokes or worse. The nonsense helped with the stress at times.

“We use an old walk-in freezer with some modifications.” Rice leading into a small storage room in the back corner of the building. A large metal door labeled “cold room” was centered in the far wall. “Usually it holds medications. And the room stores supplies.”

“Does your doctor have any theories?” Geraint walked around Jack.

She hesitated.

“I have heard everything, ma’am,” he reassured.

“Dr. Phillips said they look like they were hit by a lorry.” Rice took a moment. “There was no lorry involved.”

That unfortunately sounded familiar, Jack thought. “Were they evaluated a current or past medical facility?” 

 

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

Kylia Jones stood in her office watching her screen scroll information, and wondering about her life. Investigations shouldn’t involve tracking stupid government employees. Unfortunately, Torchwood would get blamed for failing to protect them from their own stupidity. From the stories she heard in the last two hours, she suspected the teams were not communicating with each other and whoever was coordinating opted not to provide security warnings.

She adjusted the phone headset. The latest warning hit a snag. A special constable called back.

“We were able to evacuate them,” Seith explained. Then muttered something in to someone in the background. “The team leader is demanding to speak to you.”

Joy. “Give him the phone.”

“Who is this?” The Londoner demanded.

“Kylia Jones from the Torchwood Cardiff office.”

“I am Edgar Parmley, a special advisor from London.” He emphasized, “You do not have jurisdiction.”

“Sir, there are no less than six teams from Cardiff, Swansea, and London evaluating sites in Wales associated with a Torchwood investigation. Whether or not we have jurisdiction is not the issue. Four Englishman are dead. Two other teams, from Cardiff and Swansea, have been attacked barring them access. Based on the uncertain cause of death, it’s Torchwood jurisdiction. We can argue different circumstances and what justifies your presence in Wales. But I’m trying to prevent you from becoming a Torchwood case.”

“Why would an alien target building inspectors?”

Kylia doubted they were aliens. They wouldn’t care about nationality. A human or something that used to be a human would. “Depends on the building. In this case, the former facility you’re  inspecting is suspected of unethical medical research involving alien technology. There are any number of possibilities. Without seeing the location, I can only suspect the alien or tech has a problem with the English.”

“Who died?” He sounded suspicious.

Kylia read their names. “They were killed in Nunman, Wales. A small community northwest of Cardiff.” 

“How did you find out?”

“Local law enforcement called us. They tend to do that with bizarre deaths.” Kylia shook her head slightly. The situation was ridiculous. Only in cases where a government, company or organization was caught doing something they weren’t supposed to did anyone argue jurisdiction. 

 

** Nunman Medical Clinic; Nunman, Wales **

Geraint Hughes reviewed all four bodies and knew he had to report what he found. He wanted to be wrong. The circumstances were completely different. While it fit Jack’s Amroth theory, it complicated more than one insane problem.

Geraint had seen similarities. Not just the men killed at the secret office, but unrelated cases. It made him uneasy. It offered potential explanations for a few problems, but created more than it solved. An uneasiness settled over him as he removed his exam gloves. He opened the cold room door and stepped out. 

Having worked for Torchwood as a consultant since he completed his Foundation training, Geraint had seen the consequences of investigations and people interacting with technology they didn’t understand. Bad luck, weird circumstances, and downright stupidity were the primary cause of gruesome deaths. This had the potential to be the worst he’d seen. It wasn’t caused by fewer ethics from a time with different views on right and wrong.

“Jack.”

He stopped flirting with a nurse and walked over.

“I need to run scans. But injuries are consistent with the men in Cardiff.” Geraint hesitated. “Additional injuries suggest a ballistic monk. Instead of levitate, they explode.”

“Ianto mentioned an exploding Weavil.”

Geraint nodded. 

“Monk are defending the facilities?” Jack sounded skeptical.

“Unfortunately.” Geraint didn’t like where that theory led. “Another type of monk. The complete lack of evidence at the secret office pointed to an entity not a person.” He sighed. “Jack, the drug might be triggering something else entirely.” Pause. “The abilities you mentioned.”

Jack lowered his voice. “No. Rift abilities can do some of what monks can, but they’re stable genetic adaption.”

“No government spent that kind of money on treating poor, sick kids prior to the 80s. Even now, there would be an expectation of financial return for the expense.”

“Various countries experimented with psychic abilities and psychotropic drugs in the 60s and 70s.”

Geraint nodded. “How would that connect to the bodies flagged at the morgue? The suspected test subjects died of cancer and immunology diseases.” Rather than neurological problems associated with those types of experiments.

“Or monked when their bodies gave out,” Jack said. “The entities are motivated to protect the facilities for a reason.”

That indicated humans rather than other life forms. “If that’s possible, how do we stop them? They’re effectively sentient ghosts.” 

 

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

Sitting in Jack’s office, Ianto Jones mentally reviewed the case trying to decide what to do next. He knew they were missing something. Someone changed the morgue criteria for bodies repeatedly. That happened before the urban explorers found the secret office. The person responsible had to know about the research, test subjects from multiple facilities, and have access to the Cardiff morgue. While it was possible one of the researchers developed a conscience, he doubted it. There were a lot of possibilities. But he suspected a relative. The survivors probably didn’t have access to details beyond the programs they participated in. 

Wishing he had a better plan, Ianto downloaded a list of people with access to the morgue network that allowed access to change the criteria. Then he ran their names through death records looking for anyone who lost a family member in the last two years. As an hour turned to two, he thought about using one of Kylia’s search programs. Except it required an individual assessment. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Until he found it. 

Ianto stared at the name Claude Ignmire. It could be a coincidence, Ianto told himself. But it wasn’t. Confirming it took several minutes. Delwin Rice worked at the morgue in Swansea. He was related to Ingmire and therefore Covington. 

Then Ianto remembered the name of the special constable in Nunman Margred Rice. While Rice was a common name, it made him suspicious. It took twenty minutes, but he found a connection. He wasn’t positive they were related, but they knew each other.

Concerned, Ianto reached for his phone. He quickly found Jack in his contacts and pressed connected. It rang four times.

“We are on our way back.”

Good, Ianto thought. “I think I know what’s happening.”


	9. Chosen

** Y Chwaer Hyll Pub; Cardiff, Wales **

** Saturday, February 15, 2019 **

Jack Harkness parked the Torchwood van in the adjacent car park. The number of emergency vehicles and constables blocking doors made him wonder. Cardiff PD reported a possible Rasputin situation. They suspected intentionally contaminated food or water. CCTV footage had been disrupted and witness statements were unreliable. Those who weren’t high had been drinking their dinner. 

“Jack.” Ianto set a hand on Jack’s leg. “What’s wrong.”

He sat back. “Nothing.”

Ianto disagreed. “You barely spoke in half-an-hour.” 

“Just thinking.” Jack opened the van door and stepped out. His thoughts kept wandering back to the dream interrupted by the call. He suspected it was stress. Sioned’s death, losing thirty years, and reconnecting with a different lover he failed to save was difficult to wrap his mind around. 

Ianto asked as they walked from the van together, “Did I ask too much?”

“No.” You didn’t ask for anything, Jack thought. He knew the guilt was a combination of loss from two very different relationships, but knowing didn’t lessen the feeling or the other tangled emotions that went with it. Relationships were complicated enough without unexplained time travel and somehow replacing a past version of himself. 

A blond constable stepped out of the pub. Ianto covered his mouth as if to cough. “Do not flirt with DC Jenkins or anyone around her. She tried to sleep with the other you for Torchwood access. To get a promotion.”

Great, Jack thought. He didn’t recognize her. While it was possible he dealt with her in the original time line, he doubted it. Gwen dealt with PD more often than not. She usually coordinated with Andy. Jack hadn’t seen him since the time shift. 

“Paramedics are triaging the drunk or high witnesses. It looks like the water was spiked. Seven are at A&E.”

They already knew that much. Whitchurch hospital had a walk-in patient with similar symptoms. CCTV outside the A&E malfunctioned similarly to the pub. The only current theory was a teleporting monk had the frame of mind to seek medical treatment.

“We will test the water,” Jack said.

Jenkins continued, “Ariana Kendrick at the bar wearing a rugby jersey. Coherent. Won’t admit using. But recognized Rasputin symptoms and told the paramedics. She won’t talk to the police.”

“Thank you.”

Jenkins walked away.

Jack opened the door and led into the pub. The mess was impressive with turned over furniture, broken plates and pieces clothing in random locations. It looked like a wild party. He would have smiled under other circumstances. There was nothing amusing about drugging people. Nevertheless with an unstable drug known for extreme side-effects. 

The paramedics were coordinating assessments while constables monitored the crowd. Men and women, in various states of undress, sat or laid on the floor. Most looked high. A few talked to themselves. Others stared at walls. One spun around in a circle by the pool table in the back talking loudly about pretty colors. A group of hard drinkers sat at a table together in the back.

“Ms. Kendrick,” Jack said, walking up to the woman Jenkins described. “Captain Jack Harkness. Ianto Jones. Of Torchwood.”

She groaned without looking at him. “The aliens just left through the back door. If you hurry, you might catch them.”

Jack smiled, sliding on a stool next to her. “I need to know what happened?”

Ariana held up her hands. “Everything was fine. Then people started acting crazy.” 

“Did you see or hear anything unusual?”

“Everything is unusual.” She laughed; it had an edge. “I wouldn’t recognize my own reflection.”

Ianto injected, “You react badly to Rasputin?”

“Oh yeah. I have a mood disorder.” She exhaled. “I dated a guy who thought psyche meds caused my problems. He dosed me repeatedly for a week. And showed me movies from the 60s and 70s. Yellow Submarine, Tommy.” Pause. “When Garry found me, I was so far gone, I couldn’t tell the A&E doctor my name.” 

“I will tell the paramedics.”

“No.” Ariana hesitated. “I was in hospital for six weeks. The doctor tried to reestablish my medication. It doesn’t work anymore. The Rasputin permanently damaged my brain. More than it already was.”

Jack grabbed Ianto’s artificial hand. “Would you allow our doctor to examine you?”

The alien prosthetic pricked Jack’s hand with a sharp from nowhere and he released it, unable to hide the brief pain.

“Sorry.” Ianto stepped back as his hand twitched.

She nodded. “I don’t want another six weeks in hospital.”

 

** Whitchurch Hospital A&E **

Kylia Jones followed Geraint into the hospital through an employee door. He had access to Cardiff hospitals and possibly London. Even with the inevitably conflicts Torchwood had no one risked angering him. Geraint’s bioengineering specialty was rare and his list of accomplishments were unique. With increasing advancements in biomechanics, and few surgeons capable of performing surgeries, it gave him an advantage. Most days.

“He can’t answer questions,” the nurse insisted adamantly. Her name tag said ‘Mandy.’ “He’s nonresponsive.”

“Ma’am,” Kylia injected. “Dr. Hughes just needs a few minutes to determine if the patient has Rasputin complications. It’s necessary for treatment. While he’s doing an examine, not an interrogation, I can run facial recognition. An ID will take minutes and won’t cost the hospital anything.” Pause. “Your patient isn’t a suspect. We believe he was drugged like the pub victims. If so, he may need specialized detox. Dr. Hughes is the only doctor in Wales recognized for his understanding of Rasputin side-effects.”

Mandy looked skeptical. “Wait here.”

Geraint waited until she walked away. Then spoke quietly. “Owen is the specialist.”

Kylia smiled. “He’s not in Wales.”

They were allowed to see the patient a few minutes later and the nurse led them to the room. Psyche patients and ones on drugs had some of the same health concerns. He was restrained for his own safety with a nurse in the room. 

“Alys needs to stay.” Mandy left.

“I just need to take his picture.” Kylia held up her phone. It looked normal, but had impressive new functions. Geraint had to design a new one after the last was compromised. The hacker couldn’t access her information so he or she remotely shorted it out. The extensive new options said he was stressed. 

Alys motioned toward the patient that seemed awake but unaware anyone was in the room with him.

After three attempts to take the man’s picture, the phone screen blinked and shutdown from interference. “Geraint.” Kylia watched him test it. Radiation exposure shouldn’t have shorted it out that quickly.

Puzzled, he walked over and looked at the device. Then he scanned it. His eyes quickly widened. “He’s a monk.”

Alys looked nervously at the patient. 

“Ma’am,” Geraint said carefully, “We need to leave. Now.” He motioned toward the door.

Once outside, Geraint found his mobile and checked it. He then placed his ear com in and tapped it. “Jack.” He waited a moment. “We need to notify the hospitals receiving pub patients. We’re looking at two monks. At least. This one doesn’t have the frame of mind to get himself out of the pub to the hospital.” He listened. “We need to consider the possibility it was intentional.” Pause. “Is anyone there exhibiting unusual symptoms?” Geraint closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No documented cases of that type of side-effect. Where was she hospitalized?” He listened. “Conventional terrorism isn’t the most likely option. The drug is associated with certain religious practices. This could be religious extremism.”

 

** Torchwood Three **

Ianto Jones entered the quarantine observation room adjusting his phone headset. The insanity with the Institute started again. Covington had been temporarily suspended pending an investigation. Ianto suspected he was still calling shots. If the prime minister suspended Jack the team would still listen to him anyway. Although Ianto doubted Covington’s people were that loyal. 

“We have one monk recovering without detox and several that either didn’t monk or are coming down without assistance.” They also suspected the situation was kept under control by a stable monk.

“What do we know about the drugging?” Delissa sounded like she was trying to play nice and failing.

“Nothing solid. If it was a terrorist test run, it failed. No deaths or permanent injuries.” Geraint’s religious suggestion was a completely different problem. Either an extremist group or someone wanted to start a witch hunt. It had been tried unsuccessfully at least twice before and innocent people died in the resulting mob action. “Jack concluded the water was contaminated on-site. PD is handling the basics. Jack is at the hospital monitoring victims for delayed reactions.”

“Does Dr. Hughes need assistance?”

Is that why you’re being nice? You want permission to send someone? Ianto wondered. “No.” 

“Our medical response team is available.”

Ianto nodded. “Geraint will coordinate with Owen, if necessary.” It wasn’t the first time they had multiple patients. Seeing Geraint and his robots through the observation window, he had it under control. 

Wright paused as if trying to think of another way to politely suggest it. The Institute had been barred from interfering with Cardiff. “We are here if you need us.” 

The call ended in strained pleasantries.

Geraint walked over to the glass and motioned indicating the headset. Ianto nodded. Geraint pressed the intercom button. “Go to the infirmary and ask Ariana about the secret office. A DNA comparison flagged her and David, the recovering monk, to DNA from that facility. Two of the urban explorers.” 

Consequences happened, but Ianto doubted it. “Anything unexpected in their test results?”

“She was misdiagnosed with a mood disorder. She has a hereditary disorder. I doubt the medication she was taking did more than make her dopey. Repeated exposure to Rasputin appears to have rewired part of her brain.”

“Cure?”

“Not exactly. It resolved the mood disorder. But somewhat akin to repairing a computer and having spare parts left over. It works, but...”

Ianto didn’t look forward to that conversation. “How much should I tell her?”

“Nothing. I will handle it.”


	10. Chapter 10

** Saint David’s Hospital; Cardiff, Wales **

Jack Harkness stood in the A&E near a group of exam rooms specific for Rasputin victims from the pub. And ran continual scans from a hand-held device Geraint built. From the design, Jack suspected the other version of himself described a piece of future technology he had as a Time Agent. 

While waiting, he mentally reviewed what he knew about the pub situation. Something about David Overfield, the man transferred to Whitchurch hospital, bothered Jack. Evidence at the pub showed the missing monk had the mental capacity to keep people safe. Why did you chose a hospital farther from the pub? The only idea Jack had was the electrical disturbance. David disrupted CCTV outside the hospital, the same as the pub, but didn’t affect equipment inside. It was a question for Geraint. 

Energy tingled over Jack’s skin, making the hair stand up. It reminded him of the monk at the museum. Jack moved around a corner near a curtained observation window to check his wrist-strap. He scanned and found no Rift energy. But he caught a faint movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked at the window. A faint image reflected. He turned and saw nothing nothing. 

“Captain Harkness,” a young constable from the pub said, peeking around the corner. He looked uneasy.

Jack closed his wrist-strap and turned back. 

“We have a suspect, sir.”

“What’s wrong?”

The constable moved around the corner and lowered his voice. “It’s not the first time the group has been accused of something Rasputin-related.” Pause. “They went to court for their right to smoke it. They have been suspected of several crimes after that. Multiple arrests. All dismissed. Their lawyer threatened to sue the city if it happened again.”

“What’s your name?”

“Thomas Lloyd.”

Jack gave it a moment. “Do you know anyone in the group?”

“No. I participated in the last arrest.” Lloyd obviously didn’t agree with it. 

“What’s the reasoning this time?” Jack needed to contact Ianto and have him pull police and court records.

“Proximity. Avantika Bhatt owns a New Age store blocks from the pub. After hours, the group meets in the backroom. Depending on who you ask, they smoke their weight in Rasputin or help Avantika with her business. Every night.”

 

** Torchwood Three **

Ianto Jones moved a chair alongside Ariana’s medical cot. She was the only one transferred to the infirmary instead of quarantine. While she appeared clear headed, she reported ongoing hallucinations. Medical scans supported it. Geraint restrained her just in case. She handled it better than expected.

“I need to ask a few questions,” Ianto said. “Your DNA flagged a previous Torchwood case.”

She closed her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

“We need to understand why you chose to explore that location. Why February?”

“Planned development. By spring, we wouldn’t have access.”

Ianto nodded. The NHS facility was on hold pending the completion of investigations. New locations were being considered. “Did someone insist?”

“Fane. He kept scouting the place looking for a way in.” She looked resigned. “He likes buildings with creepy stories. True crime. Urban legends.” Pause. “I don’t know if we would have gone through with it if Rory hadn’t disappeared the previous weekend. We needed something to take our minds off of it.”

Another possible coincidence, Ianto thought. “Did he turn up?”

“No. His mom tried filing a missing persons report. The police didn’t bother.”

“With his full name and a picture, I can look.”

Ariana opened her eyes and looked at Ianto. Her eyes were unfocused because whatever she saw it wasn’t him. “Why would Torchwood care?”

“We think it’s possible that you and your friends were given access to the building to expose it.” Evidence on-site suggested an entity, possibly a type of monk, removed plywood and created the hole they entered through. “When was Rory seen last?”

“The previous Sunday. He said he was going to the museum. The one that was evacuated.”

 

Kylia Jones turned in her chair as her grandfather entered her lab. He was handling the stress better. She suspected Jack’s change helped. She couldn’t ask her grandfather about his love life. While she was somehow from another universe, and Ianto was less than twenty years older, he was still family. Not quite a surrogate father. But he’d taken her in without a second thought when her DNA flagged his. She looked enough like her grandmother that he never questioned it.

“I need you to run a check for a missing person. Rory Doyle. Potentially connected to the museum, secret office and at least two person at the pub tonight.”

She nodded. “I have the information Jack asked for. None of the people associated with Ms. Bhatt have a valid criminal record. Constables have described them as criminal druggies with crackpot religious beliefs. More than half the group own profitable businesses.” Pause. “There is a possible justification for suspecting them. One of the group members, Evgenia Stiachkov, runs a nursery business specializing in exotic plants. She is licensed to produce the group’s Rasputin for religious purposes.”

“But?”

“They’re single, mostly female, and obviously not ethnic Welsh. All of them are citizens by birth. Parents are legal whether they immigrated or were born here.” Kylia motioned at one of her screens. “The group is targeted by racists and xenophobes.” 

“Any connection to the pub?”

Kylia shook her head. “We need a sample of their Rasputin for comparison to the victim’s blood work. But I doubt it.”

 

** The Universal Pattern (Shop) **

Jack Harkness parked the Torchwood van behind Avantika Bhatt’s two story building. Three cars occupied the car park. Lights shone in a second story window. The back door opened as he stepped out of the van. An Indian woman with graying black hair and bright colored, bohemian clothes, stood in the doorway with dim light pouring out of the building around her.

“Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood,” he said, walking over.

Avantika crossed her arms. “I can see that.” 

“I need to ask a few question.”

She stepped back, holding the door. Jack placed his hand on the door and she backed up farther. The back room was clean, well-organized and smelled like lemon-scented cleaner not drugs. Nothing supported the police reports so far.

“What are the accusations this time?” Avantika asked as Jack let the door close behind him.

“Nothing from Torchwood.” Jack gave it a moment. “More than fifty people were drugged with Rasputin tonight. With unusual results. I need samples from every source in the area. Your business is associated with a group that produces it.”

She groaned as Jack said ‘Rasputin.’ “What we use is called ‘Universe,’ Captain Harkness.”

Dealing with religion was often problematic. The so-far unsubstantiated accusations by law enforcement complicated it. “Name aside, a large group of people were exposed unwillingly. Several had severe reactions.”

“There are different types of Universe. Ours is similar to marijuana. People who don’t commune use it irresponsibly.” Avantika then emphasized, “But it doesn’t cause ‘monks.’”

Jack asked, “What is the difference between Universe and the drug with severe side-effects?”

“How it’s grown.” Resigned, she continued. “The original plant is from Siberia. It grows best in soil from specific areas known for meteorite impacts.” Pause. “Ev knows how to test meteorites. A certain type absorbs the energy necessary to produce Universe. Using different materials will cause different effects.”

If true, that explained a few things. Including how a completely harmless plant was turned into a drug. “What causes monks?”

“I don’t know.” Pause. “Universe affects a person’s psychic awareness. It doesn’t create it. If a latent ability is triggered and the person is incapable of handling it…”

The conversation quickly returned to the topic of samples and Avantika went to make arrangements. As Jack waited, he remembered John’s confidence that monks and hybrids were caused by the time change and not whatever the Institute thought happened. At the time, Jack hadn’t thought to ask questions. He needed to. He had no idea who was right yet, but he suspected it was more complicated than it sounded.

 

** Torchwood Three **

Ianto Jones waited just inside the large door for Jack. The search for Doyle added another piece to the puzzle and tied the museum monk to everything else. Ianto suspected Ariana knew more than she was willing to admit. After confirming her hospitalization claims and the police report describing the ordeal as domestic-related psychological torture, he couldn’t blame her.

The door rolled over and Jack entered carrying a sample case. “You have something?” 

“The monk from the museum is Rory Doyle.” Ianto explained what he’d learned from Ariana and Kylia’s subsequent research. 

Jack walked toward the stairs to his office. “Were the other urban explorers at the pub?”

“David.” Ianto suspected one or both of the others were there.

“Is Kylia running in depth backgrounds?” Jack stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yep.” Ianto hesitated. “Jack, what if someone intentionally dosed Doyle? The pub attack could have been an attempt to affect his friends. Rory, David and Ariana had unusual reactions. She mentioned a Fane. I went back and asked for the fifth member of the group. She wouldn’t give me his name.”

“The monk from the pub?”

Ianto nodded. “My guess.”

“Avantika had an alternative theory.” Jack started up the stairs. “Has Ariana shown any indication of psychic ability.”

“No.” Ianto followed. “But she is functioning despite the hallucinations. She recognize the drug, instructed the paramedics and was able to talk to me.” 

Jack led across the platform. His office door opened. He waited until Ianto reached the door so it wouldn’t close in his face. Then continued into the office.

“Did Geraint give an opinion?” He shrugged off his coat.

“No time with several patients.”

Jack hung up his coat. “Computer, activate intercom.” It clicked. “Geraint.”

“I don’t have answers.” He sounded stressed.

“Do you need help?” Jack asked.

Geraint muttered something under his breath. “Citing overtime concerns, the Institute sent Owen home and offered to send a medical team to Cardiff. I told Ms. Wright I would wait for morning. Except Owen has other work to do.”

Ianto should have known she would try again. “That’s interfering. Owen has the most knowledge and experience with monks.”

“I will call in the morning,” Jack concluded. “Do you need more hands?”

“No.” Geraint muttered again before the intercom clicked off from his end.


	11. Chapter 11

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

** Sunday, February 16, 2019 **

Jack Harkness woke startled from a nightmare. The memory of The Blessing’s Shanghai platform as he waited for Gwen to shoot him remained vivid. While he had nightmares after it happened, he doubted he’d dreamed about it in more than thirty years. Minutes passed as his thoughts cleared. He wondered if going back in time or learning the ancient entity had been destroyed triggered it. But the simple explanations felt wrong. With the image haunting him, he couldn’t sleep. He dressed early and headed for the dining area. 

Waking before the preprogrammed coffeemaker meant it had to be reset it which took longer than it should. Lack of sleep, stress and grief were the likely possibilities. Except it wasn’t memories of Sioned. Jack couldn’t think of any reason the images made him feel betrayed. He thought he was going to die in The Blessing chamber. A sacrifice needed to save the planet. Gwen shot him so he wouldn’t have to commit suicide; she considered it an unforgivable sin. Without context, the situation could have been misinterpreted. He wondered if he was being affected. 

Hoping it was simply a nightmare, Jack headed for the infirmary. He wanted to scan himself. With everything that happened, he had to consider the possibilities. A part of him still wondered if any of it was real. Even after everything, going back in time thirty years to a very different time line sounded implausible. As an immortal time traveler living centuries before his birth, there wasn’t much he considered impossible anymore.

The door slid open and Jack entered. Ariana sat up. Geraint must have loosened her restraints.

“Your aura is different.”

Jack stopped at turned to her. “You’re hallucinating again?”

“No. Dr. Hughes says I’m seeing energy. A normal high.”

He continued toward the desk. “Different how?”

“The doctor and Ianto glow the same color.” She quickly added, “Except for the arm.”

Curious, Jack asked, “Does the arm have an aura?” He grabbed a hand-held scanner.

“Yep.” Pause. “Dr. Hughes wants to test the ability if I still it have when he’s back.”

“A few more hours,” Jack said absently, focusing on the device.

He scanned himself. The results showed slightly elevated chronons and Rift energy. Since he woke after the time change, the readings varied. He wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of what happened. When he first arrived, Geraint mentioned a quantum signature change. The only thing Jack knew of capable of affecting him was The Blessing. While the entity was gone, the question remained how anything other than The Blessing could affect it.

Paradox, Jack thought. Using The Blessing to retroactively destroy it was paradoxical. An insane Time Lord turned the Tardis into a paradox machine and attacked the planet with creatures created in the future. When he was defeated, the machine was disassembled and the effect ended. From what he knew of the time change, or thought he did, it happened in 2047 and went back in time. Then hit the Rift opening and bounced forward. 

He had no idea what would happen if one paradoxical temporal disruption impacted a second one. With the added temporal anomalies caused by the Rift, the Time Lord and John’s first arrival in Cardiff, there was no way to know what would happen. 

Is someone or something still trapped in time as Anwen had been for two years? If so, who? Or what? Jack wished he had answers.

 

Geraint Hughes had a growing list of questions and no answers. What concerned him the most wasn’t the patients in quarantine, the one in restraints or the tests he couldn’t explain. It was why someone drugged more than fifty people. There were cases where mentally unbalanced spiritualists exposed people to Rasputin in an effort to prove the drug’s safety or force them to experience it. But he suspected there was a bigger picture.

He entered the conference room and moved to the foot of the table opposite Jack. One more puzzle Geraint had no explanation for. The man sitting across from him was and wasn’t the same. They would become friends again. It was hard to process at times that his friend no longer recognized him. After working for Torchwood, very little surprised him anymore. That did.

“Is Ianto joining us?” Another change Geraint didn’t understand. This Jack obviously felt guilty about something and was determined to make amends. 

“He’s getting coffee.” Kylia sounded exhausted. She sat to Jack’s right with her arms crossed on the table and her head down.

Before they wouldn’t have waited. Geraint didn’t mind the new consideration, but wondered what caused the differences. The original Jack knew something about the temporal disruption. It gave him insight into the future and fueled his paranoia. Geraint wished he had asked more questions.

The door slid open and Ianto entered carrying a tray. Geraint suggested more than once they have coffeemakers in every room. With John’s tech replicator, it wouldn’t cost much. Ianto’s metamorphic arm had too many quirks to trust carrying anything nevertheless hot liquid. Except he wouldn’t listen. 

Ianto set the tray in front of Jack. 

“What do we have?” Jack looked at Geraint as Ianto poured coffee.

“A lot of questions,” Geraint replied. “All the patients from the pub have unusually extended symptoms. Four have developed what appear to be psychic abilities. Three show Rift energy on scans like Anwen. Ariana can see energy similar to a Rasputin high. She needs experience to differentiate type. But so far, she has accurately identified chronons and energy types associated with the Rift.” 

Ianto passed out mugs.

“The auras?” Jack asked.

Geraint nodded. “I find it unlikely the effect was coincidental.”

“Anything from the drug samples?” Jack didn’t sound hopeful.

“Yes and no. Ms. Bhatt’s version is the closest. It’s comparable to other spiritual versions I’ve tested.”

Jack nodded. “Homegrown?” 

“Probably. It has no street drug additives.” Geraint needed more information. 

“We have no growers on file. Do we have anything?”

Ianto sat on Jack’s left. “Shipments entering Europe from Russia are checked for plants and seeds. If the Institute, Europol or Interpol know how it’s distributed, they haven’t shared the information.”

“Ms. Bhatt said it required specific soil and meteorite fragments.”

Geraint wished he knew. 

Kylia looked up, still leaning on her crossed arms. “Rory, David, Ariana and Fane posted urban exploring photographs on social media. The fifth member of their group is Garry Clough. I found CCTV footage of him near the pub and nothing since.” Pause. “All were born in Cardiff. They’ve known each other forever. Same daycare, primary school, secondary school. Different universities.” 

“We need in depth backgrounds.”

“Already done. No criminal records. A few speeding tickets.” Kylia yawned. “They enjoy trespassing and posting the evidence online. They’re not master criminals.”

“I will run the locations,” Ianto said.

It was a needle in a haystack, Geraint thought. “They might have been exposed to something.” With abandoned buildings there were a lot of possibilities. Without knowing what they were looking for, the odds were they wouldn’t recognize it if they found it.

“Ask Ariana,” Kylia suggested.

“While the mood disorder was inaccurate, she has a personality disorder and issues with authority. It contributed to the misdiagnosis.” Geraint wondered the best way to explain. “She will only cooperate so far.”

 

Ianto Jones had an idea after leaving the conference room. He set up his laptop in the kitchen and dining area and checked police reports. Ariana said her boyfriend drugged her repeatedly. When he checked the report originally, he was only interested in whether he was incarcerated. Ianto realized he hadn’t looked at the rest of the details. 

With domestic cases, abuse varied. Torture was unusual but it happened. While it was possible the ex-boyfriend wanted her to experience the drug or even thought it would work better than her psychiatric medication, the permanent affect suggested he knew something. 

Thinking about possible exposures made Ianto realize he didn’t review the first drugging. Seeing the notes made him wished he’d thought of it earlier. 

His hands flew over the keyboard as he ran a search remotely accessing Kylia’s system. He compared names from Cardiff PD reports, the museum and CCTV around the pub. The results took several minutes and generated two names. Police reports tied them to an extremist religious group. 

Ianto entered the group into Google. Their website indicated a Rasputin cult. 

He placed his ear com and tapped it. “Jack.”

“Find something?” Jack asked.

“Ariana’s ex-boyfriend’s solicitor argued diminished capacity based on religious delusions. He believed she would evolve as a result of exposure.” Pause. “I found a man and a woman suspected of drugging people. They’re part of a group with similar beliefs.”

“Do they produce Rasputin?”

Ianto quickly found the authorization list. “Not legally.”

“Work with Kylia. We need everything on that group.”

 

Jack Harkness returned to the infirmary with a tablet and notes on Ariana and her friends. For reasons he didn’t understand, he associated her with The Blessing nightmare he had earlier. It reminded him of the unexplained feeling of betrayal. Conflicts between him and Gwen during the Miracle Day situation didn’t compare to Ariana. Unless someone took experiences out of context. He kept telling himself it was anxiety, but it fit his earlier theory he was being influenced.

Ariana turned toward the door as it opened. She sat on her cot holding an e-reader. “You glow like an angel.” 

He smiled. “I’ve been told I’m divine.” It would have sounded better under different circumstances. 

“I bet.” She smiled back. 

Jack claimed the chair next to her. “I need to ask questions.”

Her humor faded. 

“Have you heard the phrase ‘Dawning of the Universe?’”

The blood rushed from her face. “Why?”

“We have a possible connection between what happened to the pub and a Rasputin cult.”

Ariana closed her eyes and set her head back. “Eric’s group.”

“Unfortunately.” Working for Torchwood, Jack rarely dealt with domestic violence. “Did Eric say why…”

Minutes past before she answered. “He said I was special, chosen. That I needed to stop poisoning myself with psychiatric medication and commune with the universe. I should have seen it.” She exhaled. “I told myself it was Eric being Eric.” Pause. “It wasn’t the first warning sign I ignored.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Yeah, it is. If I was paying attention. If I listened to Garry. He told me Eric was dangerous.”

Jack wanted to ask about the member of the group she withheld earlier, but suspected she would stop cooperating. She mentioned Garry both times they discussed the drugging. Jack guessed she was trying to protect her friend. With the reaction to the drug, it was possible she didn’t know Garry monked. 

“Why would the group target you?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down at her hands, thinking. “They knew this would happen.”

Jack gave it a moment. “Do you know what monk means?”

Ariana nodded.

“Your friend David monked and is coming down without assistance. Rory disappeared because he monked at the museum.” Pause. “We can’t find Fane.”

“He wasn’t at the pub.”

“Garry was.”

She closed her eyes.

“We think you and your friends were exposed while urban exploring…”

“Not to Rasputin,” Ariana replied quietly.


	12. Chapter 12

** Red Dragon Centre; Cardiff, Wales **

After a long day staring at computer screens, Ianto Jones needed a break. With all the work, it gave him an excuse to order takeaway. He took the lift up between Roald Dahl Plass and the Millennium Centre and walked across Bute Place. The Italian restaurant offered several new specials. And a familiar face.

Jestina smiled. “Still running the boss’ errands.” She thought he worked in an office. 

“I needed some air.” 

She nodded, amused. “In February.”

Ianto smiled. “Nice scenery.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Jestina eyed him. “Worked out if it’s on or off yet?”

Ianto shrugged. With Jack’s changes there might be a real chance for their relationship. Too many years of waiting and hoping gave him patience or at least a lot of experience managing impatience. Before he at least knew what to expect. 

“No one deserves that many chances.”

There were times Ianto wished he agreed. His mobile rang keeping him from having to reply.

“Ten more minutes,” Jestina said as he found his phone.

“Thanks.” Ianto stepped to one side of the entrance away from people waiting for tables.

The screen said “unknown caller.” With Geraint’s modifications that left few possibilities. Ianto pressed connect. “Hello.”

“Mr. Jones.” The young man sounded tired. “I have information.” Pause. “The Institute acquired the Cardiff police files about the pub drugging. Agents with press credentials are bribing witnesses with trips to London. Once there, they will be brought in for evaluation. Anyone with long-term side-effects will be involuntary admitted to a Torchwood medical facility.”

It unfortunately sounded plausible. “Are you safe?” The young man had access to sensitive information. Ianto suspected Covington’s assistant Langford Talbot. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Ianto said as the caller disconnected.

 

** Torchwood Three **

Kylia Jones ran background checks on every cult member she could find. An uneasiness settled over her as she reviewed details. It reminded her of the background Ianto created for her. Nothing stood out. No unanswered questions. Except a group of religious extremists willing to drug more than fifty people should have criminal and psychiatric records. But they were only known to the police because of their fascination with Rasputin. 

How do you know who to drug? Kylia wondered. If one had an ability like Ariana then maybe they could identify others with potential. While it was possible the group discovered Rasputin, developed abilities and figured out how they worked, Kylia doubted it.

While it was a long shot, she sifted through backgrounds for locations and ran comparisons with other location lists. Results needed to be checked carefully to rule out coincidences. If any connections existed, she suspected the case involving bodies erroneously flagged human alien hybrids and unethical medical experimentation. There was evidence suggesting entities protecting closed research facilities were a different type of monk. That might be a tie between Rasputin and the historical experiments.

Hours later she had a pattern instead of a connection. She checked and rechecked. The results were the same. Three members of the cult not only had fake backgrounds they looked like undercover law enforcement. They definitely had government help. While planting people in subversive groups was nothing new, all three appeared to be founding members. Two were suspected of drugging people at the pub.

They could be wrong. Current theories were based on incomplete information and inference. Except Eric, Ariana’s ex-boyfriend, was a member of the group when he drugged her. There was no unexplained information or confidential informants listed in the police records. But that didn’t rule out Interpol, Whitehall or Torchwood. Interpol and Whitehall were unlikely for various reasons. Both the Torchwood Institute and Whitehall were involved in the unethical research. The Institute interfered with the investigation and not only threatened Jack with an armed response team but sent two more teams in an attempt to breach security.

Kylia sent Jack a summary of her research. 

Then focused on the next stage of research. Fake backgrounds and starting or infiltrating extremist groups could identify suspects. Figuring out why and how was beyond her research skills. But she could look for them. The question was where to start. 

Monks. Rasputin groups in areas known for monks. The best way to stay off the Institute’s radar was to search conspiracy sites. A few of them kept grainy Bigfoot and Nessy pictures on the public pages and offered more realistic information for those who knew where to look. She programmed those into her new searches. One checked monk reports. Another found drug exposure reports. A third looked for extremist groups. Each created a location list for comparison. 

The complication with using conspiracy sites was corroborating the information afterward. She needed innocuous details to research situations indirectly. Ideally, the Institute hadn’t flagged all reliable articles. 

Running backgrounds on suspect cultists was a bigger risk. Kylia checked the locals ones. Nothing suspicious there. If she openly investigated more than one fake background outside of Cardiff, it could flag the Institute or an organization or corporation. Depending on what she found, Jack would need to contact Europol or Interpol. Anyone searching from there might alert someone. It wouldn’t lead back to her but could endanger them. That was a discussion to have with Jack if she found anything.

 

Ianto Jones stepped off the lift and handed Jack half the dinner bags. With security in mind, Ianto waited to share the anonymous tip. The caller’s motivation was questionable. But the information was always accurate. Jack, before the change, suspected it was some type of power play by Langford’s parents. Jack knew Derrian, Langford’s father, from the 80s. Whether friends or lovers, it ended badly. 

“Do you know a Derrian Talbot?” Ianto asked as Jack lead across the main room.

“Why?”

Ianto explained.

“Langford is a lot like you. He knows Torchwood inside out and is often underestimated. His skill set is a combination of his parents,” Jack said. 

They walked down the hall toward the kitchen and dining area. “Are they playing both sides?”

“I doubt it. Either the Talbots object to Covington’s leadership style or it’s internal politics.”

Ianto wondered. “They could be manipulating him.”

“No,” Jack said confidently. “The attack on the hub was stupid. Derrian wouldn’t risk people unless the mission could succeed.”

The willingness to share information reminded Ianto again of the change. He wanted to believe it was progress. But suspected it was another illusion. Jack’s consideration was based on survivor’s guilt. 

He led through the sliding door and turned. “What’s wrong?” 

Ianto wished he knew. 

“The waitress?”

Of course you know, Ianto thought. Not that Jestina was a secret. Jack, the other Jack, suggested she was a better idea. There were definitely times Ianto agreed. “Yep.”

“Geraint mentioned her,” Jack said, turning back toward the kitchen counter. 

Ianto already guessed that. The doctor insisted more than once that Jestina was a realistic possibility. “He thinks I should ask her out.” Ianto immediately regretted the comment. 

Jack opened the cupboard and reached for plates. “Why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know.” One more aspect of the change, Ianto thought. They could discuss it without arguing. “Jestina knows about you. Somewhat.”

“You mentioned me?” Jack’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “When do I get to meet her?”

Not happening, Ianto thought. Everyone Jack met fell for him or so it seemed. “Get your own woman,” Ianto said, trying for amused.

Jack laughed, reaching for Ianto’s hand resting on the counter. “We could share.”

“And if I don’t want to?” 

Jack stepped forward, guiding Ianto back against the counter. “Her loss.” Jack leaned in and their lips met. The humor faded as the kiss deepened.

Ianto wasn’t surprised when Jack suddenly stepped back. Bad timing. From his expression, he was still dealing with his demons. 

 

“It happened so it’s possible.” The quote was commonly used throughout the Torchwood community where Kylia Jones came from. It hadn’t made sense until she met a version of her grandfather younger than her father in a time line where an alien invasion killed her grandmother and destroyed the possibility her or her family would exist. The Jack before the change had it engraved on a plaque for her computer lab door. 

It stayed with her as she headed for the kitchen and dining area. She found something she would have dismissed before her life changed. For some reason she couldn’t let it go. Maybe she wanted an explanation for what happened. Or she still hoped she could go home.

The door slid opened. Distracted, Kylia entered before realizing she was interrupting. Ianto and Jack had obviously been kissing moments or minutes earlier. The first time she walked in on them she hadn’t realized the previous tension was sexual. That shock passed long ago. She would have made a joke, except the awkwardness wasn’t embarrassment.

“Should I wait in the hall?” 

“No,” Ianto said. “We will talk after supper.”

That would make for a fun meal if they planned on sitting together. When Jack moved toward the door instead, she remembered the tablet and held it out toward him. 

“The pub drugging isn’t an isolated incident. There have been five internationally in the past week.”

Jack accepted the hand-held computer. “Connected?”

Kylia wasn’t sure. Coincidences happened. It could have been one group copying another. “I don’t know.” 

After an uncharacteristic hesitation, he asked, “What do you suspect?”

“The two people behind the local drugging are part of a larger organization intentionally creating monks.”


	13. Chapter 13

** Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales **

After sending a message to London, Jack Harkness sat in his office wondering if he was losing it. He felt guilty for betraying Sioned who knew he would outlive her and repeatedly told him to move on afterward. And for disrespecting Ianto by not taking advantage of him. The absurdity reminded him of the misinterpreted nightmares. It was anxiety or something was affecting him.

The door slid open. Jack turned as Geraint entered looking concerned. The doctor was another puzzle. They were friends. Despite the insanity of the time shift, that hadn’t changed. At some point, Jack needed to ask questions. He didn’t know where to start.

“The medical examiner called. She has two bodies above the Torchwood office we took the files from.” Geraint explained. “Similar to the response team.” 

That was the safer topic, Jack concluded walking over to the coat rack. “But?”

“Different killer. Same method.” 

“How bad?” Jack asked shrugging his coat on.

“The entity killed the people somewhere else and transported them there. She compared it to a specific monk scene. He was violent and crazy before he monked.”

Jack walked toward his office door and Geraint backed up. “ID on the bodies?”

“No.” Geraint definitely had an idea. He waited until they were walking down the steps toward the main floor. “Two Rasputin extremists were seen near the pub before the drugging.” They turned toward the large door. “The reporters haven’t published names. Lack of proof. But it’s not a secret.”

“Garry Clough. The monk from the pub.”

Geraint nodded. “From what Ariana’s said, Garry is the group protector. He encouraged using safety equipment and protective clothes. They teased him about it. But he kept them alive.”

That fit with teleporting David to A&E, Jack thought, as Geraint pressed the door button. From what they could piece together from the survivors, a person kept their head throughout the pub situation. He had one of the drunks unaffected by the contaminating water call 999. 

Jack led into the hallway. Once confirmed, it would reinforce the excuse he gave the Institute in an attempt to prevent the survivors from being lured to London. He insisted monitoring was necessary and ordered them (by automated text, email and PD) to stay in Cardiff and to check in daily. Not only was there an ongoing safety a concern, it was possible anyone targeting them could be harmed.

Partway to the garage, Geraint said, “I reviewed your neurological scans.” He gave it a moment. “Your quantum signature is still changing.”

That was more likely what he wanted to discuss entering his office to begin with. Jack asked, “Ideas?”

“It’s crazy.” That seemed to be Geraint’s specialty. “I think you merged with yourself from this time.” He hesitated. “Jack, the other Jack, believed someone was influencing him. The weeks leading up to the change made me wonder if it was dementia. Confusion, forgetfulness, increased paranoia.”

That could explain some of what the other version was doing, Jack thought. It could explain the conflicting emotions and perception. Except another version of himself wouldn’t have viewed The Blessing memory and conclude Gwen betrayed him. 

“Jack,” Geraint said carefully, “If that is what’s happening to you, it will be somewhat like recovering from amnesia and dissociated identity disorder. Rather than pieces of one person, it will be a struggle between two dominant personalities that don’t want to lose control.”

 

** Abandoned Medical Facility; Cardiff, Wales **

Geraint Hughes stood eying the bloody scene through an open doorway. The bodies were thrown around the room that previously had an unexplained hole cut in the floor. They sealed it, and the other potential access points, after removing the files. He suspected the display was some type of message. 

The medical examiner hadn’t been able to determine specifics. Using a hand-held device he modified, he scanned the remains. A male and female were consistent with the suspects from the pub. Both had brain abnormalities similar to Ariana. He needed his lab for a full examination. But most of the damage was postmortem. The rest was for show. 

Geraint uploaded DNA scans. Then tapped his ear com. “Kylia.”

“Yep.”

“Did you find NHS records for the pub suspects?”

“Yes and no.” She didn’t sound confident. “Nothing identifiable. No DNA.”

“Social media details?” Depending on picture quality, they could approximate physical details.

“Not enough for educated guesses. Sorry.”

That would be too easy. “Run the DNA through the free databases.” With the ancestry craze, a lot of people uploaded their DNA profiles to free sites. To the horror of defense attorneys everywhere, they offered free familial DNA searches legally accessible to law enforcement. With the hub’s computer resources, they downloaded every database available. Eventually, they would get the pay databases also. The Institute even suggested establishing services promoting people to upload their genetic profiles for access.

 

Jack Harkness walked around the outside of the building in the snow. Similar to his first visit, an eerie sensation combined with a feeling of being watched started almost immediately. He wasn’t certain, but it felt different this time. 

Energy tingled over his skin making the hair stand up. The same feeling as the hospital. Remembering the hospital experience, Jack stopped in front of a dimly illuminated window. “Garry or Rory?”

As before, a reflected image appeared. Jack didn’t turn this time. He waited to see if the monk, or entity, could or would speak to him. A man materialized in his peripheral vision instead. He turned, recognizing Garry from social media pictures. 

“Thank you.” His voice was quiet and had an odd quality. “For protecting David and Ariana.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Jack asked carefully.

Garry eyes lost focus. “Yes.” His voice echoed slightly. 

“Killing people attracts the wrong type of attention.” 

“I killed evil people, Captain Harkness.” Garry focused on Jack. “For manipulating the easily mislead. Altering unwilling people. To free their trapped  god .”

The conversation reminded Jack of meeting Rory at the museum. There was no way of knowing whether Garry was thinking clearly without knowing more about the young man. “Free him how?”

“Ariana can see the gateway. Rory can open it.”

That didn’t sound good. Ariana could see Rift energy. Rory could manipulate it. While Garry’s reliability was an issue, Jack remembered a similar situation. The team was manipulated. When Owen opened the Rift, a massive creature emerged. The 2047 temporal explosion retroactively interacted with the Rift opening. Ianto survived the time change. In theory Abbadon could have, but he was freed by a person with an ability to move effortlessly through time. Nothing Jack remembered explained the Rasputin connection. He needed to check files and discuss with Ianto in case it happened differently because of the changes.

“Torchwood needs to resolve it. No more killing.”

“You need to resolve it, Captain. Torchwood is involved.” Garry disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very helpful. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed the latest addition to my AU.


End file.
